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TICKNOR    AND    FIELDS,   Publishers. 


THE 


CHIMNEY-CORNER. 


CHRISTOPHER    CROWFIELD, 

AUTHOR   OF   "HOUSE   AND   HOME    PAPERS1'    AND    "LITTLE   FOXES.' 


BOSTON: 

TICKNOR    AND     FIELDS. 
1868. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by 

TICKNOR     AND     FIELDS, 
i  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS:  WELCH,  BJGELOW,  &  Co., 
CAMBRIDGE. 


PS 


CONTENTS. 


PACK 

L  WHAT  WILL  You  po  WITH  HER  ?  OR,  THE  WO- 
MAN QUESTION i 

II.  WOMAN'S  SPHERE 27 

III.  A  FAMILY-TALK  ON  RECONSTRUCTION        .        .  63 

IV.  Is  WOMAN  A  WORKER? 100 

V.  THE  TRANSITION 123 

VI.  BODILY  RELIGION  :  A  SERMON  ON  GOOD  HEALTH  142 

VII.  HOW   SHALL  WE   ENTERTAIN    OUR    COMPANY?        .  l66 

VIII.  HOW   SHALL  WE   BE  AMUSED?    ....  187 

IX.  DRESS,  OR  WHO  MAKES  THE  FASHIONS       .        .  205 

X.  WHAT  ARE  THE  SOURCES  OF  BEAUTY  IN  DRESS  235 

XI.  THE  CATHEDRAL   ..."....  259 

XII.  THE  NEW  YEAR 278 

XIII.  THE  NOBLE  ARMY  OF  MARTYRS.        .        .       .297 


1201593 


THE    CHIMNEY-CORNER. 


I. 


WHAT    WILL    YOU    DO    WITH    HER?     OR, 
THE  WOMAN   QUESTION. 

"  T  T  7 ELL,  what  will  you  do  with  her?"  said  I  to 

V  V     my  wife. 

My  wife  had  just  come  down  from  an  interview 
with  a  pale,  faded-looking  young  woman  in  rusty  black- 
attire,  who  had  called  upon  me  on  the  very  common 
supposition  that  I  was  an  editor  of  the  "  Atlantic 
Monthly." 

By  the  by,  this  is  a  mistake  that  brings  me,  Chris- 
topher Crovvfield,  many  letters  that  do  not  belong  to 
me,  and  which  might  with  equal  pertinency  be  ad- 
dressed, "  To  the  Man  in  the  Moon."  Yet  these  let- 
ters often  make  my  heart  ache,  —  they  speak  so  of 
people  who  strive  and  sorrow  and  want  help ;  and  it 
is  hard  to  be  called  on  in  plaintive  tones  for  help 
which  you  know  it  is  perfectly  impossible  for  you  to 
give. 

For  instance,  you  get  a  letter  in  a  delicate  hand, 


2  The  Chimney-Corner. 

setting  forth  the  old  distress,  —  she  is  poor,  and  she 
has  looking  to  her  for  support  those  that  are  poorer 
and  more  helpless  than  herself:  she  has  tried  sewing, 
but  can  make  little  at  it ;  tried  teaching,  but  cannot 
now  get  a  school,  —  all  places  being  filled,  and  more 
than  filled ;  at  last  has  tried  literature,  and  written 
some  little  things,  of  which  she  sends  you  a  modest 
specimen,  and  wants  your  opinion  whether  she  can 
gain  her  living  by  writing.  You  run  over  the  articles, 
and  perceive  at  a  glance  that  there  is  no  kind  of  hope 
or  use  in  her  trying  to  do  anything  at  literature ;  and 
then  you  ask  yourself,  mentally,  "  What  is  to  be  done 
with  her  ?  What  can  she  do  ? " 

Such  was  the  application  that  had  come  to  me  this 
morning,  —  only,  instead  of  by  note,  it  came,  as  I 
have  said,  in  the  person  of  the  applicant,  a  thin,  deli- 
cate, consumptive-looking  being,  wearing  that  rusty 
mourning  which  speaks  sadly  at  once  of  heart-bereave- 
ment and  material  poverty. 

My  usual  course  is  to  .turn  such  cases  over  to  Mrs. 
Crowfield ;  and  it  is  to  be  confessed  that  this  worthy 
woman  spends  a  large  portion  of  her  time,  and  wears 
out  an  extraordinary  amount  of  shoe-leather,  in  per- 
forming the  duties  of  a  self-constituted  intelligence- 
office. 

Talk  of  giving  money  to  the  poor!  what  is  that, 
compared  to  giving  sympathy,  thought,  time,  taking 


What  will  Yon  do  with  Her?    ^          3 

their  burdens  upon  you,  sharing  their  perplexities  ? 
They  who  are  able  to  buy  off  every  application  at  the 
door  of  their  heart  with  a  five  or  ten  dollar  bill  are 
those  who  free  themselves  at  least  expense. 

My  wife  had  communicated  to  our  friend,  in  the 
gentlest  tones  and  in  the  blandest  manner,  that  her 
poor  little  pieces,  however  interesting  to  her  own 
household  circle,  had  nothing  in  them  wherewith  to 
enable  her  to  make  her  way  in  the  thronged  and 
crowded  thoroughfare  of  letters,  —  that  they  had  no 
more  strength  or  adaptation  to  win  bread  for  her  than 
a  broken-winged  butterfly  to  draw  a  plough  ;  and  it 
took  some  resolution  in  the  background  of  her  ten- 
derness to  make  the  poor  applicant  entirely  certain 
of  this.  In  cases  like  this,  absolute  certainty  is  the 
very  greatest,  the  only  true  kindness. 

It  was  grievous,  my  wife  said,  to  see  the  discouraged 
shade  which  passed  over  her  thin,  tremulous  features, 
when  this  certainty  forced  itself  upon  her.  It  is  hard, 
when  sinking  in  the  waves,  to  see  the  frail  bush  at 
which  the  hand  clutches  uprooted  ;  hard,  when  alone 
in  the  crowded  thoroughfare  of  travel,  to  have  one's 
last  bank-note  declared  a  counterfeit.  I  knew  I 
should  not  be  able  to  see  her  face,  under  the  shade  of 
this  disappointment ;  and  so,  coward  that  I  was,  I 
turned  this  trouble,  where  I  have  turned  so  many 
others,  upon  my  wife. 


4  The  Chimney-Corner. 

"  Well,  what  shall  we  do  with  her  ?  "  said  I. 

"  I  really  don't  know,"  said  my  wife,  musingly. 

"  Do  you  think  we  could  get  that  school  in  Taunton 
for  her  ? " 

"  Impossible  ;  Mr.  Herbert  told  me  he  had  already 
twelve  applicants  for  it." 

"  Could  n't  you  get  her  plain  sewing  ?  Is  she  handy 
with  her  needle  ? " 

"  She  has  tried  that,  but  it  brings  on  a  pain  in  her 
side,  and  cough ;  and  the  doctor  has  told  her  it  will 
not  do  for  her  to  confine  herself." 

"  How  is  her  handwriting  ?  Does  she  write  a  good 
hand?" 

"  Only  passable." 

"  Because,"  said  I,  "  I  was  thinking  if  I  could  get 
Steele  and  Simpson  to  give  her  law-papers  to  copy." 

"  They  have  more  copyists  than  they  need  now ; 
and,  in  fact,  this  woman  does  not  write  the  sort  of 
hand  at  all  that  would  enable  her  to  get  on  as  a 
copyist." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  turning  uneasily  in  my  chair,  and  at 
last  hitting  on  a  bright  masculine  expedient,  "  I  '11  tell 
you  what  must  be  done.  She  must  get  married." 

"  My  dear,"  said  my  wife,  "  marrying  for  a  living  is 
the  very  hardest  way  a  woman  can  take  to  get  it. 
Even  marrying  for  love  often  turns  out  badly  enough. 
Witness  poor  Jane." 


What  will  You  do  with  Her?  5 

Jane  was  one  of  the  large  number  of  people  whom 
it  seemed  my  wife's  fortune  to  carry  through  life  on 
her  back.  She  was  a  pretty,  smiling,  pleasing  daugh- 
ter of  Erin,  who  had  been  in  our  family  originally  as 
nursery-maid.  I  had  been  greatly  pleased  in  watching 
a  little  idyllic  affair  growing  up  between  her  and  a 
joyous,  good-natured  young  Irishman,  to  whom  at  last 
we  married  her.  Mike  soon  after,  however,  took  to 
drinking  and  unsteady  courses ;  and  the  result  has 
been  to  Jane  only  a  yearly  baby,  with  poor  health, 
and  no  money. 

"  In  fact,"  said  my  wife,  "  if  Jane  had  only  kept  sin- 
gle, she  could  have  made  her  own  way  well  enough, 
and  might  have  now  been  in  good  health  and  had  a 
pretty  sum  in  the  savings  bank.  As  it  is,  I  must  carry 
not  only  her,  but  her  three  children,  on  my  back." 

"You  ought  to  drop  her,  my  dear.  You  really 
ought  not  to  burden  yourself  with  other  people's  af- 
fairs as  you  do,"  said  I,  inconsistently. 

"  How  can  I  drop  her  ?  Can  I  help  knowing  that 
she  is  poor  and  suffering?  And  if  I  drop  her,  who 
will  take  her  up  ? " 

Now  there  is  a  way  of  getting  rid  of  cases  of  this 
kind,  spoken  of  in  a  quaint  old  book,  which  occurred 
strongly  to  me  at  this  moment :  — 

"  If  a  brother  or  sister  be  naked,  and  destitute  of 
daily  food,  and  one  of  you  say  unto  them,  'Depart  in 


6  The  Chimney-Corner. 

peace,  be  ye  warmed  and  filled/  notwithstanding  ye 
give  them  not  those  things  which  are 'needful  to  the 
body,  what  doth  it  profit  ? " 

I  must  confess,  notwithstanding  the  strong  point  of 
the  closing  question,  I  looked  with  an  evil  eye  of  long- 
ing on  this  very  easy  way  of  disposing  of  such  cases. 
A  few  sympathizing  words,  a  few  expressions  of  hope 
that  I  did  not  feel,  a  line  written  to  turn  the  case  into 
somebody  else's  hands,  —  any  expedient,  in  fact,  to 
hide  the  longing  eyes  and  imploring  hands  from  my 
sight,  was  what  my  carnal  nature  at  this  moment 
greatly  craved. 

"Besides,"  said  my  wife,  resuming  the  thread  of 
her  thoughts  in  regard  to  the  subject  just  now  before 
us,  "  as  to  marriage,  it 's  out  of  the  question  at 
present  for  this  poor  child ;  for  the  man  she  loved 
and  would  have  married  lies  low  in  one  of  the  graves 
before  Richmond.  It 's  a  sad  story,  — one  of  a  thou- 
sand like  it.  She  brightened  for  a  few  moments,  and 
looked  almost  handsome,  when  she  spoke  of  his 
bravery  and  goodness.  Her  father  and  lover  have 
both  died  in  this  war.  Her  only  brother  has  returned 
from  it  a  broken-down  cripple,  and  she  has  him  and 
her  poor  old  mother  to  care  for,  and  so  she  seeks 
work.  I  told  her  to  come  again  to-morrow,  and  I 
would  look  about  for  her  a  little  to-day." 

"Let  me  see,  how  many  are  now  down  on  your 


What  will  You  do  with  Her?  7 

list  to  be  looked  about  for,  Mrs.  Crowfield? —  some 
twelve  or  thirteen,  are  there  not  ?  You  've  got  Tom's 
sister  disposed  of  finally,  I  hope,  —  that 's  a  com- 
fort ! " 

"  Well,  I  'm  sorry  to  say  she  came  back  on  my  hands 
yesterday,"  said  my  wife,  patiently.  "  She  is  a  foolish 
young  thing,  and  said  she  did  n't  like  living  out  in  the 
country.  I  'm  sorry,  because  the  Morrises  are  an 
excellent  family,  and  she  might  have  had  a  life-home 
there,  if  she  had  only  been  steady,  and  chosen  to 
behave  herself  properly.  But  yesterday  I  found  her 
back  on  her  mother's  hands  again ;  and  the  poor 
woman  told  me  that  the  dear  child  never  could  bear 
to  be  separated  from  her,  and  that  she  had  n't  the 
heart  to  send  her  back." 

"  And  in  short,"  said  I,  "  she  gave  you  notice  that 
you  must  provide  for  Miss  O'Connor  in  some  more 
agreeable  way.  Cross  that  name  off  your  list,  at  any 
rate.  That  woman  and  girl  need  a  few  hard  raps  in 
the  school  of  experience  before  you  can  do  anything 
for  them." 

"  I  think  I  shall,"  said  my  long-suffering  wife  ;  "  but 
it 's  a  pity  to  see  a  young  thing  put  in  the  direct  road 
to  ruin." 

"  It  is  one  of  the  inevitables,"  said  I,  "  and  we 
must  save  our  strength  for  those  that  are  willing  to 
help  themselves." 


8  The  Chimney-Comer. 

"  What 's  all  this  talk  about  ? "  said  Bob,  coming  in 
upon  us  rather  brusquely. 

"  O,  as  usual,  the  old  question,"  said  I,  —  " '  What 's 
to  be  done  with  her  ? '  " 

"  Well,"  said  Bob,  "  it 's  exactly  what  I  've  come  to 
talk  with  mother  about.  Since  she  keeps  a  distressed- 
women's  agency-office,  I  've  come  to  consult  her  about 
Marianne.  That  woman  will  die  before  six  months 
are  out,  a  victim  to  high  civilization  and  the  Paddies. 
There  we  are,  twelve  miles  out  from  Boston,  in  a 
country  villa  so  convenient  that  every  part  of  it  might 
almost  do  its  own  work,  —  everything  arranged  in  the 
most  convenient,  contiguous,  self-adjusting,  self-acting, 
patent-right,  perfective  manner, — and  yet,  I  tell  you, 
Marianne  will  die  of  that  house.  It  will  yet  be  re- 
corded on  her  tombstone,  '  Died  of  conveniences.' 
For  myself,  what  I  languish  for  is  a  log  cabin,  with  a 
bed  in  one  corner,  a  trundle-bed  underneath  for  the 
children,  a  fireplace  only  six  feet  off,  a  table,  four 
chairs,  one  kettle,  a  coffee-pot,  and  a  tin  baker, — that's 
all.  I  lived  deliciously  in  an  establishment  of  this  kind 
last  summer,  when  I  was  up  at  Lake  Superior  ;  and  I 
am  convinced,  if  I  could  move  Marianne  into  it  at 
once,  that  she  would  become  a  healthy  and  a  happy 
woman.  Her  life  is  smothered  out  of  her  with  com- 
forts ;  we  have  too  many  rooms,  too  many  carpets,  too 
many  vases  and  knick-knacks,  too  much  china  and  sil- 


What  will  You  do  with  Her?  9 

ver ;  she  has  too  many  laces  and  dresses  and  bonnets ; 
the  children  all  have  too  many  clothes;  —  in  fact,  to 
put  it  scripturally,  our  riches  are  corrupted,  our  gar- 
ments are  moth-eaten,  our  gold  and  our  silver  is  can- 
kered, —  and,  in  short,  Marianne  is  sick  in  bed,  and  I 
have  come  to  the  agency-office-for-distressed-vvomen  to 
take  you  out  to  attend  to  her. 

"  The  fact  is,"  continued  Bob,  "  that  since  our  cook 
married,  and  Alice  went  to  California,  there  seems  to 
be  no  possibility  of  putting  our  domestic  cabinet  upon 
any  permanent  basis.  The  number  of  female  persons 
that  have  been  through  our  house,  and  the  ravages 
they  have  wrought  on  it  for  the  last  six  months,  pass 
belief.  I  had  yesterday  a  bill  of  sixty  dollars'  plumb- 
ing to  pay  for  damages  of  various  kinds  which  had  had 
to  be  repaired  in  our  very  convenient  water-works  ;  and 
the  blame  of  each  particular  one  had  been  bandied  like 
a  shuttlecock  among  our  three  household  divinities. 
Biddy  privately  assured  my  wife  that  Kate  was  in  the 
habit  of  emptying  dust-pans  of  rubbish  into  the  main 
drain  from  the  chambers,  and  washing  any  little  extra 
bits  down  through  the  bowls ;  and,  in  fact,  when  one 
of  the  bathing-room  bowls  had  overflowed  so  as  to 
damage  the  frescoes  below,  my  wife,  with  great  delicacy 
and  precaution,  interrogated  Kate  as  to  whether  she 
had  followed  her  instructions  in  the  care  of  the  water- 
pipes.  Of  course  she  protested  the  most  immaculate 
i* 


IO  The  Chimney-Corner. 

care  and  circumspection.  '  Sure,  and  she  knew  how 
careful  one  ought  to  be,  and  was  n't  of  the  likes  of 
thim  as  wouldn't  mind  what  throuble  they  made,  — 
like  Biddy;  who  would  throw  trash  and  hair  in  the 
pipes,  and  niver  listen  to  her  tellin' ;  sure,  and  had  n't 
she  broken  the  pipes  in  the  kitchen,  and  lost  the  stop- 
pers, as  it  was  a  shame  to  see  in  a  Christian  house  ? ' 
Ann,  the  third  girl,  being  privately  questioned,  blamed 
Biddy  on  Monday,  and  Kate  on  Tuesday ;  on  Wednes- 
day, however,  she  exonerated  both  ;  but  on  Thursday, 
being  in  a  high  quarrel  with  both,  she  departed,  accusing 
them  severally,  not  only  of  all  the  evil  practices  afore- 
said, but  of  lying,  and  stealing,  and  all  other  miscella- 
neous wickednesses  that  came  to  hand.  Whereat  the 
two  thus  accused  rushed  in,  bewailing  themselves  and 
cursing  Ann  in  alternate  strophes,  averring  that  she  had 
given  the  baby  laudanum,  and,  taking  it  out  riding,  had 
stopped  for  hours  with  it  in  a  filthy  lane,  where  the 
scarlet  fever  was  said  to  be  -rife,  —  in  short,  made  so 
fearful  a  picture,  that  Marianne  gave  up  the  child's  life 
at  once,  and  has  taken  to  her  bed.  I  have  endeavored 
all  I  could  to  quiet  her,  by  telling  her  that  the  scarlet- 
fever  story  was  probably  an  extemporaneous  work  of 
fiction,  got  up  to  gratify  the  Hibernian  anger  at  Ann  ; 
and  that  it  was  n't  in  the  least  worth  while  to  believe 
one  thing  more  than  another  from  the  fact  that  any  of 
the  tribe  said  it.  But  she  refuses  to  be  comforted,  and 


What  will  You  do  with  Her?  1 1 

is  so  Utopian  as  to  lie  theje,  crying,  '  O,  if  I  only 
could  get  one  that  I  could  trust, — one  that  really  would 
speak  the  truth  to  me,  —  one  that  I  might  know  really 
went  where  she  said  she  went,  and  really  did  as  she 
said  she  did  ! '  To  have  to  live  so,  she  says,  and  bring 
up  little  children  with  those  she  can't  trust  out  of  her 
sight,  whose  word  is  good  for  nothing, — to  feel  that  her 
beautiful  house  and  her  lovely  things  are  all  going  to 
rack  and  ruin,  and  she  can't  take  care  of  them,  and 
can't  see  where  or  when  or  how  the  mischief  is  done, — 
in  short,  the  poor  child  talks  as  women  do  who  are 
violently  attacked  with  housekeeping  fever  tending  to 
congestion  of  the  brain.  She  actually  yesterday  told 
me  that  she  wished,  on  the  whole,  she  never  had  got 
married,  which  I  take  to  be  the  most  positive  indica- 
tion of  mental  alienatio'n." 

"  Here,"  said  I,  "  we  behold  at  this  moment  two 
women  dying  for  the  want  of  what  they  can  mutually 
give  one  another,  —  each  having  a  supply  of  what  the 
other  needs,  but  held  back  by  certain  invisible  cob- 
webs, slight  but  strong,  from  coining  to  each  other's 
assistance.  Marianne  has  money  enough,  but  she 
wants  a  helper  in  her  family,  such  as  all  her  money 
has  been  hitherto  unable  to  buy ;  and  here,  close  at 
hand,  is  a  woman  who  wants  home-shelter,  healthy,  va- 
ried, active,  cheerful  labor,  with  nourishing  food,  kind 
care,  and  good  wages.  What  hinders  these  women 


12  The  Chimney-Comer. 

from  rushing  to  the  help  of  one  another,  just  as  two 
drops  of  water  on  a  leaf  rush  together  and  make  one  ? 
Nothing  but  a  miserable  prejudice,  —  but  a  prejudice 
so  strong  that  women  will  starve  in  any  other  mode  of 
life,  rather  than  accept  competency  and  comfort  in 
this." 

"  You  don't  mean,"  said  my  wife,  "  to  propose  that 
our  protegee  should  go  to  Marianne  as  a  servant  ? " 

"  I  do  say  it  would  be  the  best  thing  for  her  to  do, 
— the  only  opening  that  I  see,  and  a  very  good  one,  too, 
it  is.  Just  look  at  it.  Her  bare  living  at  this  moment 
cannot  cost  her  less  than  five  or  six  dollars  a  week,  — 
everything  at  the  present  time  is  so  very  dear  in  the 
city.  Now  by  what  possible  calling  open  to  her  ca- 
pacity can  she  pay  her  board  and  washing,  fuel  and 
lights,  and  clear  a  hundred  and  some  odd  dollars  a 
year  ?  She  could  not  do  it  as  a  district  school-teacher ; 
she  certainly  cannot,  with  her  feeble  health,  do  it  by 
plain  sewing  ;  she  could  not  do  it  as  a  copyist.  A  ro- 
bust woman  might  go  into  a  factory,  and  earn  more  ; 
but  factory  work  is  unintermitted,  twelve  hours  daily, 
week  in  and  out,  in  the  same  movement,  in  close  air, 
amid  the  clatter  of  machinery  ;  and  a  person  delicately 
organized  soon  sinks  under  it.  It  takes  a  stolid,  en- 
during temperament  to  bear  factory  labor.  Now  look 
at  Marianne's  house  and  family,  and  see  what  is  in- 
sured to  your  protegee  there. 


What  will  You  do  with  Her?  13 

"  In  the  first  place,  a  home,  —  a  neat,  quiet  cham- 
ber, quite  as  good  as  she  has  probably  been  accus- 
tomed to,  —  the  very  best  of  food,  served  in  a  pleasant, 
light,  airy  kitchen,  which  is  one  of  the  most  agreeable 
rooms  in  the  house,  and  the  table  and  table-service 
quite  equal  to  those  of  most  farmers  and  mechanics. 
Then  her  daily  tasks  would  be  light  and  varied,  — 
some  sweeping,  some  dusting,  the  washing  and  dress- 
ing of  children,  the  care  of  their  rooms  and  the  nur- 
sery, —  all  of  it  the  most  healthful,  the  most  natural 
work  of  a  woman, — work  alternating  with  rest,  and 
diverting  thought  from  painful  subjects  by  its  variety, 
—  and  what  is  more,  a  kind  of  work  in  which  a  good 
Christian  woman  might  have  satisfaction,  as  feeling 
herself  useful  in  the  highest  and  best  way ;  for  the 
child's  nurse,  if  she  be  a  pious,  well-educated  woman, 
may  make  the  whole  course  of  nursery-life  an  educa- 
tion in  goodness.  Then,  what  is  far  different  from 
many  other  modes  of  gaining  a  livelihood,  a  woman  in 
this  capacity  can  make  and  feel  herself  really  and 
truly  beloved.  The  hearts  of  little  children  are  easily 
gained,  and  their  love  is  real  and  warm,  and  no  true 
woman  can  become  the  object  of  it  without  feeling 
her  own  life  made  brighter.  Again,  she  would  have 
in  Marianne  a  sincere,  warm-hearted  friend,  who 
would  care  for  her  tenderly,  respect  her  sorrows,  shel- 
ter her  feelings,  be  considerate  of  her  wants,  and  in 


14  The  Chimney-Corner. 

every  way  aid  her  in  the  cause  she  has  most  at  heart, 
—  the  succor  of  her  family.  There  are  many  ways 
besides  her  wages  in  which  she  would  infallibly  be 
assisted  by  Marianne,  so  that  the  probability  would  be 
that  she  could  send  her  little  salary  almost  untouched 
to  those  for  whose  support  she  was  toiling,  — all  this 
on  her  part." 

"  But,"  added  my  wife,  "  on  the  other  hand,  she 
would  be  obliged  to  associate  and  be  ranked  with 
common  Irish  sen-ants." 

"  Well,"  I  answered,  "  is  there  any  occupation,  by 
which  any  of  us  gain  our  living,  which  has  not  its  dis- 
agreeable side  ?  Does  not  the  lawyer  spend  all  his 
days  either  in  a  dusty  office  or  in  the  foul  air  of  a 
court-room  ?  Is  he  not  brought  into  much  disagree- 
able contact  with  the  lowest  class  of  society  ?  Are 
not  his  labors  dry  and  hard  and  exhausting  ?  Does 
not  the  blacksmith  spend  half  his  life  in  soot  and 
grime,  that  he  may  gain  a  competence  for  the  other 
half?  If  this  woman  were  to  work  in  a  factor)-,  would 
she  not  often  be  brought  into  associations  distasteful 
to  her  ?  Might  it  not  be  the  same  in  any  of  the  arts 
and  trades  in  which  a  living  is  to  be  got?  There 
must  be  unpleasant  circumstances  about  earning  a  liv- 
ing in  any  way ;  only  I  maintain  that  those  which  a 
woman  would  be  likely  to  meet  with  as  a  servant  in  a 
refined,  well-bred,  Christian  family  would  be  less  than 


What  will  You  do  with  Her?  15 

in  almost  any  other  calling.  Are  there  no  trials  to  a 
woman,  I  beg  to  know,  in  teaching  a  district  school, 
where  all  the  boys,  big  and  little,  of  a  neighborhood 
congregate  ?  For  my  part,  were  it  my  daughter  or 
sister  who  was  in  necessitous  circumstances,  I  would 
choose  for  her  a  position  such  as  I  name,  in  a  kind, 
intelligent,  Christian  family,  before  many  of  those  to 
which  women  do  devote  themselves." 

"Well,"  said  Bob,  "all  this  has  a  good  sound 
enough,  but  it 's  quite  impossible.  It 's  true,  I  verily 
believe,  that  such  a  kind  of  servant  in  our  family 
would  really  prolong  Marianne's  life  years,  —  that  it 
would  improve  her  health,  and  be  an  unspeakable 
blessing  to  her,  to  me,  and  the  children,  —  and  I 
would  almost  go  down  on  my  knees  to  a  really  well- 
educated,  good,  American  woman  who  would  come 
into  our  family,  and  take  that  place  ;  but  I  know  it 's 
perfectly  vain  and  useless  to  expect  it.  You  know 
we  have  tried  the  experiment  two  or  three  times  of 
having  a  person  in  our  family  who  should  be  on  the 
footing  of  a  friend,  yet  do  the  duties  of  a  servant,  and 
that  we  never  could  make  it  work  well.  These  half- 
and-half  people  are  so  sensitive,  so  exacting  in  their 
demands,  so  hard  to  please,  that  we  have  come  to  the 
firm  determination  that  we  will  have  no  sliding-scale 
in  our  family,  and  that  whoever  we  are  to  depend  on 
must  come  with  bona-fide  willingness  to  take  the  posi- 


1 6  The  CJiimney-Conter. 

tion  of  a  servant,  such  as  that  position  is  in  our  house ; 
and  that,  I  suppose,  your  protegee  would  never  do, 
even  if  she  could  thereby  live  easier,  have  less  hard 
work,  better  health,  and  quite  as  much  money  as  she 
could  earn  in  any  other  way." 

"  She  would  consider  it  a  personal  degradation,  I 
suppose,"  said  my  wife. 

"  And  yet,  if  she  only  knew  it,"  said  Bob,  "  I  should 
respect  her  far  more  profoundly  for  her  willingness  to 
take  that  position,  when  adverse  fortune  has  shut 
other  doors." 

"  Well,  now,"  said  I,  "  this  -woman  is,  as  I  under- 
stand, the  daughter  of  a  respectable  stone-mason ; 
and  the  domestic  habits  of  her  early  life  have  prob- 
ably been  economical  and  simple.  Like  most  of  our 
mechanics'  daughters,  she  has  received  in  one  of  our 
high  schools  an  education  which  has  cultivated  and 
developed  her  mind  far  beyond  those  of  her  parents 
and  the  associates  of  her  childhood.  This  is  a  com- 
mon fact  in  our  American  life.  By  our  high  schools 
the  daughters  of  plain  workingmen  are  raised  to  a 
state  of  intellectual  culture  which  seems  to  make  the 
disposition  of  them  in  any  kind  of  industrial  calling  a 
difficult  one.  They  all  want  to  teach  school, — and 
school-teaching,  consequently,  is  an  overcrowded  pro- 
fession, —  and,  failing  that,  there  is  only  millinery  and 
dressmaking.  Of  late,  it  is  true,  efforts  have  been 


What  will  You  do  with  Her?  17 

made  in  various  directions  to  widen  their  sphere. 
Type-setting  and  book-keeping  are  in  some  instances 
beginning  to  be  open  to  them. 

"  All  this  time  there  is  lying,  neglected  and  de- 
spised, a  calling  to  which  womanly  talents  and  in- 
stincts are  peculiarly  fitted,  —  a  calling  full  of  oppor- 
tunities of  the  most  lasting  usefulness,  —  a  calling 
which  insures  a  settled  home,  respectable  protection, 
healthful  exercise,  good  air,  good  food,  and  good 
wages,  —  a  calling  in  which  a  woman  may  make  real 
friends,  and  secure  to  herself  warm  affection  ;  and  yet 
this  calling  is  the  one  always  refused,  shunned,  con- 
temned, left  to  the  alien  and  the  stranger,  and  that 
simply  and  solely  because  it  bears  the  name  of  servant. 
A  Christian  woman,  who  holds  the  name  of  Christ  in 
her  heart  in  true  devotion,  would  think  it  the  greatest 
possible  misfortune  and  degradation  to  become  like 
him  in  taking  upon  her  '  the  form  of  a  servant.'  The 
founder  of  Christianity  says,  '  Whether  is  greater,  he 
that  sitteth  at  meat  or  he  that  serveth  ?  But  7  am 
among  you  as  he  that  serveth.'  But  notwithstanding 
these  so  plain  declarations  of  Jesus,  we  find  that 
scarce  any  one  in  a  Christian  land  will  accept  real 
advantages  of  position  and  employment  that  come 
with  that  name  and  condition." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  my  wife,  "  I  could  prevail  upon 
this  woman  to  €k>  all  the  duties  of  the  situation,  if  she 


1 8  The  Chimney-Corner. 

could  be,  as  they  phrase  it,  'treated  as  one  of  the 
family.'  " 

"  That  is  to  say,"  said  Bob,  "  if  she  could  sit  with 
us  at  the  same  table,  be  introduced  to  our  friends,  and 
be  in  all  respects  as  one  of  us.  Now  as  to  this,  I  am 
free  to  say  that  I  have  no  false  aristocratic  scruples. 
I  consider  every  well-educated  woman  as  fully  my 
equal,  not  to  say  my  superior ;  but  it  does  not  follow 
from  this  that  she  would  be  one  whom  I  should  wish 
to  make  a  third  party  with  me  and  my  wife  at  meal- 
times. Our  meals  are  often  our  seasons  of  privacy, 
—  the  times  when  we  wish  in  perfect  unreserve  to 
speak  of  matters  that  concern  ourselves  and  our  fam- 
ily alone.  Even  invited  guests  and  family  friends 
would  not  be  always  welcome,  however  agreeable  at 
times.  Now  a  woman  may  be  perfectly  worthy  of  re- 
spect, and  we  may  be  perfectly  respectful  to  her, 
whom  nevertheless  we  do  not  wish  to  take  into  the 
circle  of  intimate  friendship.  I  regard  the  position 
of  a  woman  who  comes  to  perform  domestic  service 
as  I  do  any  other  business  relation.  We  have  a  very 
respectable  young  lady  in  our  employ,  who  does 
legal  copying  for  us,  and  all  is  perfectly  pleasant  and 
agreeable  in  our  mutual  relations  ;  but  the  case  would 
be  far  otherwise,  were  she  to  take  it  into  her  head 
that  we  treated  her  with  contempt,  because  my  wife 
did  not  call  on  her,  and  because  she  was  not  occasion- 


What  will  You  do  with  Her?  19 

ally  invited  to  tea.  Besides,  I  apprehend  that  a 
woman  of  quick  sensibilities,  employed  in  domestic 
service,  and  who  was  so  far  treated  as  a  member  of 
the  family  as  to  share  our  table,  would  find  her  posi- 
tion even  more  painful  and  embarrassing  than  if  she 
took  once  for  all  the  position  of  a  servant.  We  could 
not  control  the  feelings  of  our  friends ;  we  could  not 
always  insure  that  they  would  be  free  from  aristocratic 
prejudice,  even  were  we  so  ourselves.  We  could  not 
force  her  upon  their  acquaintance,  and  she  might  feel 
far  more  slighted  than  she  would  in  a  position  where 
no  attentions  of  any  kind  were  to  be  expected.  Be- 
sides which,  I  have  always  noticed  that  persons  stand- 
ing in  this  uncertain  position  are  objects  of  peculiar 
antipathy  to  the  servants  in  full ;  that  they  are  the 
cause  of  constant  and  secret  cabals  and  discontents  ; 
and  that  a  family  where  the  two  orders  exist  has  al- 
ways raked  up  in  it  the  smouldering  embers  of  a  quar- 
rel ready  at  any  time  to  burst  out  into  open  feud." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  here  lies  the  problem  of  American 
life.  Half  our  women,  like  Marianne,  are  being  faded 
and  made  old  before  their  time  by  exhausting  endeav- 
ors to  lead  a  life  of  high  civilization  and  refinement 
with  only  such  untrained  help  as  is  washed  up  on  our 
shores  by  the  tide  of  emigration.  Our  houses  are 
built  upon  a  plan  that  precludes  the  necessity  of  much 
hard  labor,  but  requires  rather  careful  and  nice  hand- 


2O  The  Chimney-Comer. 

ling.  A  well-trained,  intelligent  woman,  who  had 
vitalized  her  finger-ends  by  means  of  a  well-developed 
brain,  could  do  all  the  work  of  such  a  house  with 
comparatively  little  physical  fatigue.  So  stands  the 
case  as  regards  our  houses.  Now  over  against  the 
women  that  are  perishing  in  them  from  too  much  care, 
there  is  another  class  of  American  women  that  are 
wandering  up  and  down,  perishing  for  lack  of  some 
remunerating  employment.  That  class  of  women, 
whose  developed  brains  and  less  developed  muscles 
mark  them  as  peculiarly  fitted  for  the  performance  of 
the  labors  of  a  high  civilization,  stand  utterly  aloof 
from  paid  domestic  service.  Sooner  beg,  sooner 
starve,  sooner  marry  for  money,  sooner  hang  on  as 
dependants  in  families  where  they  know  they  are  not 
wanted,  than  accept  of  a  quiet  home,  easy,  healthful 
work,  and  certain  wages,  in  these  refined  and  pleasant 
modern  dwellings  of  ours." 

"  What  is  the  reason  of  this  ? "  said  Bob. 

"  The  reason  is,  that  we  have  not  yet  come  to  the 
full  development  of  Christian  democracy.  The  taint 
of  old  aristocracies  is  yet  pervading  all  parts  of  our 
society.  We  have  not  yet  realized  fully  the  true  dig- 
nity of  labor,  and  the  surpassing  dignity  of  domestic 
labor.  And  I  must  say  that  the  valuable  and  coura- 
geous women  who  have  agitated  the  doctrines  of 
Woman's  Rights  among  us  have  not  in  all  things  seen 
r  their  way  clear  in  this  matter." 


What  will  You  do  with  Her?  21 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  of  those  creatures,"  said  Bob, 
"  those  men-women,  those  anomalies,  neither  flesh  nor 
fish,  with  their  conventions,  and  their  cracked  woman- 
voices  strained  in  what  they  call  public  speaking,  but 
which  I  call  public  squeaking  !  No  man  reverences 
true  women  more  than  I  do.  I  hold  a  real,  true, 
thoroughly  good  woman,  whether  in  my  parlor  or  my 
kitchen,  as  my  superior.  She  can  always  teach  me 
something  that  I  need  to  know.  She  has  always  in 
her  somewhat  of  the  divine  gift  of  prophecy ;  but  in 
order  to  keep  it,  she  must  remain  a  woman.  When 
she  crops  her  hair,  puts  on  pantaloons,  and  strides 
about  in  conventions,  she  is  an  abortion,  and  not  a 
woman." 

"  Come  !  come  !  "  said  I,  "  after  all,  speak  with 
deference.  We  that  choose  to  wear  soft  clothing  and 
dwell  in  kings'  houses  must  respect  the  Baptists,  who 
wear  leathern  girdles,  and  eat  locusts  and  wild  honey. 
They  are  the  voices  crying  in  the  wilderness,  prepar- 
ing the  way  for  a  coming  good.  They  go  down  on 
their  knees  in  the  mire  of  life  to  lift  up  and  brighten 
and  restore  a  neglected  truth ;  and  we  that  have  not 
the  energy  to  share  their  struggle  should  at  least  re- 
frain from  criticising  their  soiled  garments  and  un- 
graceful action.  There  have  been  excrescences,  ec- 
centricities, peculiarities,  about  the  camp  of  these 
reformers  ;  but  the  body  of  them  have  been  true  and 


22  The  Chimney-Comer. 

noble  women,  and  worthy  of  all  the  reverence  due  to 
such.  They  have  already  in  many  of  our  States  re- 
formed the  laws  relating  to  woman's  position,  and 
placed'her  on  a  more  just  and  Christian  basis.  It  is 
through  their  movements  that  in  many  of  our  States  a 
woman  can  hold  the  fruits  of  her  own  earnings,  if  it 
be  her  ill  luck  to  have  a  worthless,  drunken  spend- 
thrift for  a  husband.  It  is  owing  to  their  exertions 
that  new  trades  arid  professions  are  opening  to  wo- 
man ;  and  all  that  I  have  to  say  of  them  is,  that  in 
the  suddenness  of  their  zeal  for  opening  new  paths  for 
her  feet,  they  have  not  sufficiently  considered  the 
propriety  of  straightening,  widening,  and  mending  the 
one  broad,  good  old  path  of  domestic  labor,  estab- 
lished by  God  himself.  It  does  appear  to  me,  that, 
if  at  least  a  portion  of  their  zeal  could  be  spent  i:i 
removing  the  stones  out  of  this  highway  of  domestic 
life,  and  making  it  pleasant  and  honorable,  they  would 
effect  even  more.  I  would  not  have  them  leave  un- 
done what  they  are  doing  ;  but  I  would,  were  I  wor- 
thy to  be  considered,  humbly  suggest  to  their  pro- 
phetic wisdom  and  enthusiasm,  whether,  in  this  new 
future  of  women  which  they  wish  to  introduce,  wo- 
men's natural,  God -given  employment  of  domestic 
service  is  not  to  receive  a  new  character,  and  rise  in  a 
new  form. 

" '  To  love  and  serve '  is  a  motto  worn  with  pride 


What  will  You  do  with  Her?  23 

oh  some  aristocratic  family  shields  in  England.  It 
ought  to  be  graven  on  the  Christian  shield.  Servant 
is  the  name  which  Christ  gives  to  the  Christian;  and 
in  speaking  of  his  kingdom  as  distinguished  from 
earthly  kingdoms,  he  distinctly  said,  that  rank  there 
should  be  conditioned,  not  upon  desire  to  command, 
but  on  willingness  to  serve. 

"  '  Ye  know  that  the  princes  of  the  Gentiles  exercise 
dominion  over  them,  and  they  that  are  great  exercise 
authority  upon  them.  But  it  shall  not  be  so  among 
you  :  but  whosoever  will  be  great  among  you,  let  him 
be  your  minister  ;  and  whosoever  will  be  chief  among 
you,  let  him  be  your  servant' 

"  Why  is  it,  that  this  name  of  servant,  which  Christ 
says  is  the  highest  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  is  so 
dishonored  among  us  professing  Christians,  that  good 
women  will  beg  or  starve,  will  suffer  almost  any  ex- 
treme of  poverty  and  privation,  rather  than  accept 
home,  competence,  security,  with  this  honored  name  ?  " 

"  The  fault  with  many  of  our  friends  of  the  Wo- 
man's Rights  order,"  said  my  wife,  "  is  the  deprecia- 
tory tone  in  which  they  have  spoken  of  the  domestic 
labors  of  a  family  as  being  altogether  below  the  scope 
of  the  faculties  of  woman.  'Domestic  drudgery'  they 
call  it,  — •  an  expression  that  has  done  more  harm  than 
any  two  words  that  ever  were  put  together. 

"  Think  of  a  woman's  calling  clear-Starching   and 


24  The  Chimney-Corner. 

ironing  domestic  drudgery,  and  to  better  the  matter 
turning  to  type-setting  in  a  grimy  printing-office  !  Call 
the  care  of  china  and  silver,  the  sweeping  of  carpets, 
the  arrangement  of  parlors  and  sitting-rooms,  drudg- 
ery;  and  go  into  a  factory  and  spend  the' day  amid  the 
whir  and  clatter  and  thunder  of  machinery,  inhaling 
an  atmosphere  loaded  with  wool  and  machine-grease, 
and  keeping  on  the  feet  for  twelve  hours,  nearly  con- 
tinuously !  Think  of  its  being  called  drudgery  to 
take  care  of  a  clean,  light,  airy  nursery,  to  wash  and 
dress  and  care  for  two  or  three  children,  to  mend 
their  clothes,  tell  them  stories,  make  them  playthings, 
take  them  out  walking  or  driving ;  and  rather  than 
this,  to  wear  out  the  whole  livelong  day,  extending 
often  deep  into  the  night,  in  endless  sewing,  in  a  close 
room  of  a  dressmaking  establishment !  Is  it  any  less 
drudgery  to  stand  all  day  behind  a  counter,  serving 
customers,  than  to  tend  a  door-bell  and  wait  on  a 
table  ?  For  my  part,"  said  my  wife,  "  I  have  often 
thought  the  matter  over,  and  concluded,  that,  if  I  were 
left  in  straitened,  circumstances,  as  many  are  in  a 
great  city,  I  would  seek  a  position  as  a  servant  in  one 
of  our  good  families." 

"  I  envy  the  family  that  you  even  think  of  in  that 
connection,"  said  I.  "  I  fancy  the  amazement  which 
would  take  possession  of  them  as  you  began  to  de- 
velop among  them." 


What  will  You  do  with  Her?  2$ 

"  I  have  always  held,"  said  my  wife,  "  that  family 
work,  in  many  of  its  branches,  can  be  better  per- 
formed by  an  educated  woman  than  an  uneducated 
one.  Just  as  an  army  where  even  the  bayonets  think 
is  superior  to  one  of  mere  brute  force  and  mechanical 
training,  sd,  I  have  heard  it  said,  some  of  our  distin- 
guished modern  female  reformers  show  an  equal  supe- 
riority in  the  domestic  sphere,  —  and  I  do  not  doubt 
it.  Family  work  was  never  meant  to  be  the  special 
province  of  untaught  brains.  I  have  sometimes 
thought  I  should  like  to  show  what  I  could  do  as  a 
servant." 

"  Well,"  said  Bob,  "  to  return  from  all  this  to  the 
question,  What 's  to  be  done  with  her  ?  Are  you 
going  to  my  distressed  woman  ?  If  you  are,  suppose 
you  take  your  distressed  woman  along,  and  ask  her  to 
try  it.  I  can  promise  her  a  pleasant  house,  a  quiet 
room  by  herself,  healthful  and  not  too  hard  work,  a 
kind  friend,  and  some  leisure  for  reading,  writing,  or 
whatever  other  pursuit  of  her  own  she  may  choose  for 
her  recreation.  We  are  always  quite  willing  to  lend 
books  to  any  who  appreciate  them.  Our  house  is  sur- 
rounded by  pleasant  grounds,  which  are  open  to  our 
servants  as  to  ourselves.  So  let  her  come  and  try  us. 
I  am  quite  sure  that  country  air,  quiet  security,  and 
moderate  exercise  in  a  good  home,  will  bring  up  her 
health ;  and  if  she  is  willing  to  take  the  one  or  two 

2 


26  The  Chimney-Corner. 

disagreeables  which  may  come  with  all  this,  let  her  try 
us." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  so  be  it ;  and  would  that  all  the 
women  seeking  homes  and  employment  could  thus  fall 
in  with  women  who  have  homes  and  are  perishing  in 
them  for  want  of  educated  helpers  ! " 

On  this  question  of  woman's  work  I  have  yet  more 
to  say,  but  must  defer  it  till  another  time. 


II. 

WOMAN'S    SPHERE. 

"  \  T  7 HAT  do  you  think  of  this  Woman's  Rights 
*  •  question  ? "  said  Bob  Stephens.  "  From 
some  of  your  remarks,  I  apprehend  that  you  think 
there  is  something  in  it.  I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  must 
confess  that  I  have  looked  with  disgust  on  the  whole 
movement.  No  man  reverences  women  as  I  do ;  but 
I  reverence  them  as  women.  I  reverence  them  for 
those  very  things  in  which  their  sex  differs  from  ours ; 
but  when  they  come  upon  our  ground,  and  begin  to 
work  and  fight  after  our  manner  and  with  our  weap- 
ons, I  regard  them  as  fearful  anomalies,  neither  men 
nor  women.  These  Woman's  Rights  Conventions 
appear  to  me  to  have  ventilated  crudities,  absurdities, 
and  blasphemies.  To  hear  them  talk  about  men,  one 
would  suppose  that  the  two  sexes  were  natural-born 
enemies,  and  wonders  whether  they  ever  had  fathers 
and  brothers.  One  would  think,  upon  their  showing, 
that  all  men  were  a  set  of  ruffians,  in  league  against 


28  The  Chimney-Corner. 

women,  —  they  seeming,  at  the  same  time,  to  forget 
how  on  their  very  platforms  the  most  constant  and 
gallant  defenders  of  their  rights  are  men.  Wendell 
Phillips  and  Wentworth  Higginson  have  put  at  the 
service  of  the  cause  masculine  training  and  manly 
vehemence,  and  complacently  accepted  the  wholesale 
abuse  of  their  own  sex  at  the  hands  of  their  warrior 
sisters.  One  would  think,  were  all  they  say  of  female 
powers  true,  that  our  Joan-of-Arcs  ought  to. have  dis- 
dained to  fight  under  male  captains." 

"  I  think,"  said  my  wife,  "  that,  in  all  this  talk  about 
the  rights  of  men,  and  the  rights  of  women,  and  the 
rights  of  children,  the  world  seems  to  be  forgetting 
what  is  quite  as  important,  the  duties  of  men  and 
women  and  children.  We  all  hear  of  our  rights  till 
we  forget  our  duties  ;  and  even  theology  is  beginning 
to  concern  itself  more  with  what  man  has  a  right  to 
expect  of  rus  Creator  than  what  the  Creator  has  a 
right  to  expect  of  man." 

"  You  say  the  truth,"  said  I ;  "  there  is  danger  of 
just  'this  overaction  ;  and  yet  rights  must  be  dis- 
cussed ;  because,  in  order  to  understand  the  duties  we 
owe  to  any  class,  we  must  understand  their  rights.  To 
know  our  duties  to  men,  women,  and  children,  we  must 
know  what  the  rights  of  men,  women,  and  children 
justly  are.  As  to  the  '  Woman's  Rights  movement,'  it 
is  not  peculiar  to  America,  it  is  part  of  a  great  wave 


Woman's  Sphere.  29 

in  the  incoming  tide  of  modern  civilization  ;  the  swell 
is  felt  no  less  in  Europe,  but  it  combs  over  and  breaks 
on  our  American  shore,  because  our  great  wide  beach 
affords  the  best  play  for  its  waters  ;  and  as  the  ocean 
waves  bring  with  them  kelp,  sea-weed,  mud,  sand, 
gravel,  and  even  putrefying  debris,  which  lie  unsightly 
on  the  shore,  and  yet,  on  the  whole,  are  healthful  and 
refreshing,  —  so  the  Woman's  Rights  movement,  with 
its  conventions,  its  speech-makings,  its  crudities,  and 
eccentricities,  is  nevertheless  a  part  of  a  healthful  and 
necessary  movement  of  the  human  race  towards  pro- 
gre"ss.  This  question  of  Woman  and  her  Sphere  is  now, 
perhaps,  the  greatest  of  the  age.  We  have  put  Slavery 
under  foot,  and  with  the  downfall  of  Slavery  the  only 
obstacle  to  the  success  of  our  great  democratic  experi- 
ment is  overthrown,  and  there  seems  no  limit  to  the 
splendid  possibilities  which  it  may  open  before  the 
human  race. 

"  In  the  reconstruction  that  is  now  coming  there 
lies  more  than  the  reconstruction  of  States  and  the 
arrangement  of  the  machinery  of  government.  We 
need  to  know  and  /eel,  all  of  us,  that,  from  the  mo- 
ment of  the  death  of  Slavery,  we  parjted  finally  from 
the  regime  and  control  of  all  the  old  ideas  formed 
under  old  oppressive  systems  of  society,  and  came 
upon  a  new  plane  of  life. 

"  In  this  new  life  we  must  never  forget  that  we  are  a 


30  The  Chimney-Comer. 

peculiar  people,  that  we  have  to  walk  in  paths  unknown 
to  the  Old  World,  —  paths  where  its  wisdom  cannot 
guide  us,  where  its  precedents  can  be  of  little  use  to 
us,  and  its  criticisms,  in  most  cases,  must  be  wholly 
irrelevant.  The  history  of  our  war  has  shown  us  of 
how  little  service  to  us  in  any  important  crisis  the  opin- 
ions and  advice  of  the  Old  World  can  be.  We  have 
been  hurt  at  what  seemed  to  us  the  want  of  sympathy, 
the  direct  antagonism,  of  England.  We  might  have 
been  less  hurt  if  we  had  properly  understood  that 
Providence  had  placed  us  in  a  position  so  far  ahead  of 
her  ideas  or  power  of  comprehension,  that  just  judg- 
ment or  sympathy  was  not  to  be  expected  from  her. 

"  As  we  went  through  our  great  war  with  no  help 
but  that  of  God,  obliged  to  disregard  the  misconcep- 
tions and  impertinences  which  the  foreign  press  rained 
down  upon  us,  so,  if  we  are  wise,  we  shall  continue  to 
do.  Our  object  must  now  be  to  make  the  principles 
on  which  our  government  is  founded  permeate  consist- 
ently the  mass  of  society,  and  to  purge  out  the  leaven 
of  aristocratic  and  Old  World  ideas.  So  long  as  there 
is  an  illogical  working  in  our  actual  life,  so  long  as 
there  is  any  class  denied  equal  rights  with  other  classes, 
so  long  will  there  be  agitation  and  trouble." 

"Then,"  said  my  wife,  "you  believe  that  women 
ought  to  vote?" 

"  If  the  principle  on  which  we  founded  our  govern- 


Woman? s  Sphere.  31 

ment  is  true,  that  taxation  must  not  exist  without 
representation,  and  if  women  hold  property  and  are 
taxed,  it  follows  that  women  should  be  represented 
in  the  State  by  their  votes,  or  there  is  an  illogical 
working  of  our  government." 

"  But,  my  dear,  don't  you  think  that  this  will  have 
a  bad  effect  on  the  female  character  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Bob,  "  it  will  make  women  caucus- 
holders,  political  candidates." 

"  It  may  make  this  of  some  women,  just  as  of  some 
men,"  said  I.  "  But  all  men  do  not  take  any  great 
interest  in  politics ;  it  is  very  difficult  to  get  some  of 
the  best  of  them  to  do  their  duty  in  voting ;  and  the 
same  will  be  found  true  among  women." 

"But,  after  all,"  said  Bob,  "what  do  you  gaiif? 
What  will  a  woman's  vote  be  but  a  duplicate  of  that  of 
her  husband  or  father,  or  whatever  man  happens  to  be 
her  adviser  ? " 

"  That  may  be  true  on  a  variety  of  questions  ;  but 
there  are  subjects  on  which  the  vote  of  women  would, 
I  think,  be  essentially  different  from  that  of  men.  On 
the  subjects  of  temperance,  public  morals,  and  educa- 
tion, I  have  no  doubt  that  the  introduction  of  the 
female  vote  into  legislation,  in  States,  counties,  and 
cittes,  would  produce  results  very  different  from  that  of 
men  alone.  There  are  thousands  of  women  who 
would  close  grogshops,  and  stop  the  traffic  in  spirits,  if 


32  The  Chimney-Comer. 

they  had  the  legislative  power  ;  and  it  would  be  well 
for  society  if  they  had.  In  fact,  I  think  that  a  State 
can  no  more  afford  to  dispense  with  the  vote  of  women 
in  its  affairs  than  a  family.  Imagine  a  family  where  the 
female  has  no  voice  in  the  housekeeping  !  A  State  is 
but  a  larger  family,  and  there  are  many  of  its  concerns 
which  equally  with  those  of  a  private  household  would 
be  bettered  by  female  supervision." 

"  But  fancy  women  going  to  those  horrible  voting- 
places  !  It  is  more  than  I  can  do  myself,"  said  Bob. 

"  But  you  forget,'1  said  I,  "  that  they  are  horrible  and 
disgusting  principally  because  women  never  go  to 
them.  All  places  where  women  are  excluded  tend 
downward  to  barbarism ;  but  the  moment  she  is  intro- 
cfcced,  there  come  in  with  her  courtesy,  cleanliness, 
sobriety,  and  order.  When  a  man  can  walk  up  to  the 
ballot-box  with  his  wife  or  his  sister  on  his  arm,  voting- 
places  will  be  far  more  agreeable  than  now ;  and  the 
polls  will  not  be  such  bear-gardens  that  refined  men 
will  be  constantly  tempted  to  omit  their  political  duties 
there. 

"  If  for  nothing  else,  I  would  have  women  vote,  that 
the  business  of  voting  may  not  be  so  disagreeable  and 
intolerable  to  men  of  refinement  as  it  now  is ;  and  I 
sincerely  believe  that  the  cause  of  good  morals,  good 
order,  cleanliness,  and  public  health  would  be  a  gainer, 
not  merely  by  the  added  feminine  vote,  but  by  the 


Woman's  Sphere.  33 

added  vote  of  a  great  many  excellent,  but  too  fastidi- 
ous men,  who  are  now  kept  from  the  polls  by  the  dis- 
agreeables they  meet  there. 

"  Do  you  suppose,  that,  if  women  had  equal  repre- 
sentation with  men  in  the  municipal  laws  of  New 
York,  its  reputation  for  filth  during  the  last  year  would 
have  gone*  so  far  beyond  that  of  Cologne,  or  any  other 
city  renowned  for  bad  smells  ?  I  trow  not.  I  believe 
a  lady-mayoress  would  have  brought  in  a  dispensation 
of  brooms  and  whitewash,  and  made  a  terrible  search- 
ing into  dark  holes  and  vile  corners,  before  now.  fe- 
male New  York,  I  have  faith  to  believe,  has  yet  left  in 
her  enough  of  the  primary  instincts  of  womanhood  to 
give  us  a  clean,  healthy  city,  if  female  votes  had  any 
power  to  do  it." 

"But,"  said  Bob,  "you  forget  that  voting  would 
bring  together  all  the  women  of  the  lower  classes." 

"  Yes  ;  but  thanks  to  the  instincts  of  their  sex,  they 
would  come  in  their  Sunday  clothes  ;  for  where  is  the 
woman  that  has  n't  her  finery,  and  will  not  embrace 
every  chance  to  show  it  ?  Biddy's  parasol,  and  hat 
with  pink  ribbons,  would  necessitate  a  clean  shirt  in 
Pat  as  much  as  on  Sunday.  Voting  would  become  a 
fcfe,  and  we  should  have  a  population  at  the  polls  as 
well  dressed  as  at  church.  Such  is  my  belief." 

"  I  do  not  see,"  said  Bob,  "  but  you  go  to  the  full 
extent  with  our  modern  female  reformers." 

2*  C 


34  The  Chimney-Corner. 

"There  are  certain  neglected  truths,  which  have 
been  held  up  by  these  reformers,  that  are  gradually 
being  accepted  and  infused  into  the  life  of  modern 
society ;  and  their  recognition  will  help  to  solidify  and 
purify  democratic  institutions.  They  are, — 

"  i.  The  right  of  every  woman  to  hold  independent 
property. 

"  2.  The  right  of  every  woman  to  receive  equal  pay 
with  man  for  work  which  she  does  equally  well. 

"  3.  The  right  of  any  woman  to  do  any  work  for 
which,  by  her  natural  organization  and  talent,  she  is 
peculiarly  adapted. 

"  Under  the  first  head,  our  energetic  sisters  have 
already,  by  the  help  of  their  gallant  male  adjutants, 
reformed  the  laws  of  several  of  our  States,  so  that  a 
married  woman  is  no  longer  left  the  unprotected  legal 
slave  of  any  unprincipled,  drunken  spendthrift  who 
maybe  her  husband,  — but,  in  case  of  the  imbecility 
or  improvidence  of  the  natural  head  of  the  family,  the 
wife,  if  she  have  the  ability,  can  conduct  business, 
make  contracts,  earn  and  retain  money  for  the  good  of 
the  household  ;  and  I  am  sure  no  one  can  say  that 
immense  injustice  and  cruelty  are  not  thereby  pre- 
vented." 

"It  is  quite  easy  for  women  who  have  the  good 
fortune  to  have  just  and  magnanimous  husbands  to 
say  that  they  feel  no  interest  in  such  reforms,  and  that 


Womqtis  Sphere.  35 

they  would  willingly  trust  their  property  to  the  man  to 
whom  they  give  themselves  ;  but  they  should  remem- 
ber that  laws  are  not  made  for  the  restraint  of  the 
generous  and  just,  but  of  the  dishonest  and  base. 
The  law  which  enables  a  married  woman  to  hold  her 
own  property  does  not  forbid  her  to  give  it  to  the  man 
of  her  heart,  if  she  so  pleases ;  and  it  does  protect 
many  women  who  otherwise  would  be  reduced  to  the 
extremest  misery.  I  once  knew  an  energetic  milliner 
who  had  her  shop  attached  four  times,  and  a  flourish- 
ing business  broken  up  in  four  different  cities,  because 
she  was  tracked  from  city  to  city  by  a  worthless 
spendthrift,  who  only  waited  till  she  had  amassed  a 
little  property  in  a  new  place  to  swoop  down  upon 
and  carry  it  off.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  time  is 
not  distant  when  every  State  will  give  to  woman  a  fair 
chance  to  the  ownership  and  use  of  her  own  earnings 
and  her  own  property. 

"  Under  the  head  of  the  right  of  every  woman  to  do 
any  work  for  which  by  natural  organization  and  talent 
she  is  especially  adapted,  there  is  a  word  or  two  to  be 
said. 

"  The  talents  and  tastes  of  the  majority  of  women 
are  naturally  domestic.  The  family  is  evidently  their 
sphere,  because  in  all  ways  their  organization  fits  them 
for  that  more  than  for  anything  else. 

"  But  there  are  occasionally  women  who  are  excep- 


36  The  Chimney-Comer. 

tions  to  the  common  law,  gifted  with  peculiar  genius 
and  adaptations.  With  regard  to  such  women,  there 
has  never  seemed  to  be  any  doubt  in  the  verdict  of 
mankind,  that  they  ought  to  follow  their  nature,  and 
that  their  particular  sphere  was  the  one  to  which  they 
are  called.  Did  anybody  ever  think  that  Mrs.  Sid- 
dons  and  Mrs.  Kemble  and  Ristori  had  better  have 
applied  themselves  sedulously  to  keeping  house,  be- 
cause they  were  women,  and  '  woman's  noblest  station 
is  retreat  ? ' 

"The  world  has  always  shown  a  fair  average  of 
good  sense  in  this  matter,  —  from  the  days  of  the  fair 
Hypatia  in  Alexandria,  who,  we  are  told,  gave  lec- 
tures on  philosophy  behind  a  curtain,  lest  her  charms 
should  distract  the  attention  of  too  impressible  young 
men,  down  to  those  of  Anna  Dickinson.  Mankind 
are  not,  after  all,  quite  fools,  and  seem  in  these  cases 
to  have  a  reasonable  idea  that  exceptional  talents 
have  exceptional  laws,  and  make  their  own  code  of 
proprieties. 

"  Now  there  is  no  doubt  that  Miss  Dickinson, 
though  as  relating  to  her  femininity  she  is  quite  as 
pretty  and  modest  a  young  woman  as  any  to  be  found 
in  the  most  sheltered,  circle,  has  yet  a  most  excep- 
tional talent  for  public  speaking,  which  draws  crowds 
to  hear  her,  and  makes  lecturing  for  her  a  lucrative 
profession,  as  well  as  a  means  of  advocating  just  and 


Woman's  Sphere.  37 

generous  sentiments,  and  of  stimulating  her  own  sex 
to  nobler  purposes  ;  and  the  same  law  which  relates 
to  Siddons  and  Kemble  and  Ristori  relates  also  to 
her. 

"  The  doctrine  of  vocations  is  a  good  one  and  a  safe 
one.  If  a  woman  mistakes  her  vocation,  so  much  the 
worse  for  her ;  the  world  does  not  suffer,  but  she 
does,  and  tlte  suffering  speedily  puts  her  where  she 
belongs.  There  is  not  near  so  much  danger  from 
attempts  to  imitate  Anna  Dickinson,  as  there  is 
from  the  more  common  feminine  attempts  to  rival  the 
demi-monde  of  Paris  in  fantastic  extravagance  and 
luxury. 

"  As  to  how  a  woman  may  determine  whether  she 
has  any  such  vocation,  there  is  a  story  quite  in  point. 
A  good  Methodist  elder  was  listening  to  an  ardent 
young  mechanic,  who  thought  he  had  a  call  to  throw 
up  his  shop  and  go  to  preaching. 

"  '  I  feel,'  said  the  young  ardent,  '  that  I  have  a  call 
to  preach.' 

"  '  Hast  thou  noticed  whether  people  seem  to  have 
a  call  to  hear  thee?'  said  the  shrewd  old  man.  'I 
have  always  noticed  that  a  true  call  of  the  Lord  may 
be  known  by  this,  '  that  people  have  a  call  to  hear.' " 

"  Well,"  said  Bob,  "  the  most  interesting  question 
still  remains :  What  are  to  be  the  employments  of 
woman  ?  What  ways  are  there  for  her  to  use  her 


38  The  Chimney-Corner. 

talents,  to  earn  her  livelihood  and  support  those  who 
are  dear  to  her,  when  Providence  throws  that  neces- 
sity upon  her?  This  is  becoming  more  than  ever  one 
of  the  pressing  questions  of  our  age.  The  war  has 
deprived  so  many  thousands  of  women  of  their  natural 
protectors,  that  everything  must  be  thought  of  that 
may  possibly  open  a  way  for  their  self-support." 

"  Well,  let  us  look  over  the  field,"  said  my  wife. 
"What  is  there  for  woman?" 

"In  the  first  place,"  said  I,  ''come  the  professions 
requiring  natural  genius,  —  authorship,  painting,  sculp- 
ture, with  the  subordinate  arts  of  photographing,  col- 
oring, and  finishing;  but  when  all  is  told,  these  fur- 
nish employment  to  a  very  limited  number,  —  almost 
as  nothing  to  the  whole.  Then  there  is  teaching, 
which  is  profitable  in  its  higher  branches,  and  per- 
haps the*  very  pleasantest  of  all  the  callings  open  to 
woman  ;  but  teaching  is  at  present  an  overcrowded 
profession,  the  applicants  everywhere  outnumbering 
the  places.  Architecture  and  landscape-gardening 
are  arts  every  way  suited  to  the  genius  of  woman,  and 
there  are  enough  who  have  the  requisite  mechanical 
skill  and  mathematical  education  ;  and  though  never 
yet  thought  of  for  the  sex,  that  I  know  of,  I  do  not 
despair  of  seeing  those  who  shall  find  in  this  field  a 
profession  at  once  useful  and  elegant.  When  women 
plan  dwelling-houses,  the  vast  body  of  tenements  to 


Woman's  Sphere.  39 

be  let  in  our  cities  will  wear  a  more  domestic  and 
comfortable  air,  and  will  be  built  more  with  reference 
to  the  real  wants  of  their  inmates." 

"  I  have  thought,"  said  Bob,  "  that  agencies  of  vari- 
ous sorts,  as  canvassing  the  country  for  the  sale  of 
books,  maps,  and  engravings,  might  properly  employ 
a  great  many  women.  There  is  a  large  class  whose 
health  suffers  from  confinement  and  sedentary  occupa- 
tions, who  might,  I  think,  be  both  usefully  and  agree- 
ably employed  in  business  of  this  sort,  and  be  recruit- 
ing their  health  at  the  same  time." 

"  Then,"  said  my  wife,  "  there  is  the  medical  pro- 
fession." 

"Yes,"  said  I.  "The  world  is  greatly  obliged  to 
Miss  Blackwell  and  other  noble  pioneers  who  faced 
and  overcame  the  obstacles  to  the  attainment  of  a 
thorough  medical  education  by  females.  Thanks  to 
them,  a  new  and  lucrative  profession  is  now  open  to 
educated  women  in  relieving  the  distresses  of  their 
own  sex  ;  and  we  may  hope  that  in  time,  through 
their  intervention,  the  care  of  the  sick  may  also  be- 
come the  vocation  of  cultivated,  refined,  intelligent 
women,  instead  of  being  left,  as  heretofore,  to  the 
ignorant  and  vulgar.  The  experience  of  our  late 
war  has  shown  us  what  women  of  a  high  class  morally 
and  intellectually  can  do  in  this  capacity.  Why 
should  not  this  experience  inaugurate  a  new  and  sa- 


40  The  Chimney-Corner. 

cred  calling  for  refined  and  educated  women  ?  Why 
should  not  NURSING  become  a  vocation  equal  in  dig- 
nity and  in  general  esteem  to  the  medical  profession, 
of  which  it  is  the  right  hand  ?  Why  should  our  dear- 
est hopes,  in  the  hour  of  their  greatest  peril,  be  com- 
mitted into  the  hands  of  Sairey  Gamps,  when  the 
world  has  seen  Florence  Nightingales  ? " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  my  wife  ;  "  I  can  testify,  from 
my  own  experience,  that  the  sufferings  and  dangers  of 
the  sick-bed,  for  the  want  of  intelligent,  educated 
nursing,  have  been  dreadful.  A  prejudiced,  pig- 
headed, snuff-taking  old  woman,  narrow-minded  and 
vulgar,  and  more  confident  in  her  own  way  than  seven 
men  that  can  render  a  reason,  enters  your  house  at 
just  the  hour  and  moment  when  all  your  dearest 
earthly  hopes  are  brought  to  a  crisis.  She  becomes 
absolute  dictator  over  your  delicate,  helpless  wife  and 
your  frail  babe,  —  the  absolute  dictator  of  all  in  the 
house.  If  it  be  her  sovereign  will  and  pleasure  to 
enact  all  sorts  of  physiological  absurdities  in  the  prem- 
ises, who  shall  say  her  nay  ?  '  She  knows  her  busi- 
ness, she  hopes ! '  And  if  it  be  her  edict,  as  it  was 
of  one  of  her  class  whom  I  knew,  that  each  of  her 
babies  shall  eat  four  baked  beans  the  day  it  is  four 
days  old,  eat  tjhem  it  must ;  and  if  the  baby  die  in 
convulsions  four  days  after,  it  is  set  down  as  the  mys- 
terious will  of  an  overruling  Providence. 


Woman's  Sphere.  41 

"  I  know  and  have  seen  women  lying  upon  laced 
pillows  under  silken  curtains,  who  have  been  bullied 
and  dominated  over  in  the  hour  of  their  greatest  help- 
lessness by  ignorant  and  vulgar  tyrants,  in  a  way  that 
would  scarce  be  thought  possible  in  civilized  society, 
and  children  that  have  been  injured  or  done  to  death 
by  the  same  means.  A  celebrated  physician  told  me 
of  a  babe  whose  eyesight  was  nearly  ruined  by  its 
nurse  taking  a  fancy  to  wash  its  eyes  with  camphor, 
'to  keep  it  from  catching  cold,'  she  said.  I  knew 
another  infant  thaf  was  poisoned  by  the  nurse  giving 
it  laudanum  in  some  of  those  patent  nostrums  which 
these  ignorant  creatures  carry  secretly  in  their  pockets, 
to  secure  quiet  in  their  little  charges.  I  knew  one 
delicate  woman  who  never  recovered  from  the  effects 
of  being  left  at  her  first  confinement  in  the  hands  of 
an  ill-tempered,  drinking  nurse,  and  whose  feeble  in- 
fant was  neglected  and  abused  by  this  woman  in  a 
way  to  cause  lasting  injury.  In  the  first  four  weeks 
of  infancy  the  constitution  is  peculiarly  impressible ; 
and  infants  of  a  delicate  organization  may,  if  fright- 
ened and  ill-treated,  be  the  subjects  of  just  such  a 
shock  to  the  nervous  system  as  in  mature  age  comes 
from  the  sudden  stroke  of  a  great  affliction  or  terror. 
A  bad  nurse  may  affect  nerves  predisposed  to  weak- 
ness in  a  manner  they  never  will  recover  from.  I  sol- 
emnly believe  that  the  constitutions  of  more  women 


42  The  Chimney-Corner. 

are  broken  up  by  bad  nursing  in  their  first  confine- 
ment than  by  any  other  cause  whatever.  And  yet 
there  are  at  the  same  time  hundreds  and  thousands  of 
women  wanting  the  means  of  support,  whose  presence 
in  a  sick-room  would  be  a  benediction.  I  do  trust 
that  Miss  Blackwell's  band  of  educated  nurses  will 
not  be  long  in  coming,  and  that  the  number  of  such 
may  increase  till  they  effect  a  complete  revolution  in 
this  vocation.  A  class  of  cultivated,  well-trained, 
intelligent  nurses  would  soon  elevate  the  employment 
of  attending  on  the  sick  into  the  noble  calling  it 
ought  to  be,  and  secure  for  it  its  appropriate  rewards." 
"  There  is  another  opening  for  woman,"  said  I,  — 
"  in  the  world  of  business.  The  system  of  commer- 
cial colleges  now  spreading  over  our  land  is  a  new 
and  a  most  important  development  of  our  times. 
There  that  large  class  of  young  men  who  have  either 
no  time  or  no  inclination  for  an  extended  classical 
education  can  learn  what  will  fit  them  for  that  active 
material  life  which  in  our  broad  country  needs  so 
many  workers.  But  the  most  pleasing  feature  of  these 
institutions  is,  that  the  complete  course  is  open  to 
women  no  less  than  to  men,  and  women  there  may 
acquire  that  knowledge  of  book-keeping  and  accounts, 
and  of  the  forms  and  principles  of  business  transac- 
tions, which  will  qualify  them  for  some  of  the  lucrative 
situations  hitherto  monopolized  by  •  the  other  sex. 


Womaiis  Sphere.  43 

And  the  expenses  of  the  course  of  instruction  are  so 
arranged  as  to  come  within  the  scope  of  very  mod- 
erate means.  A  fee  of  fifty  dollars  entitles  a  woman 
to  the  benefit  of  the  whole  course,  and  she  has  the 
privilege  of  attending  at  any  hours  that  may  suit  her 
own  engagements  and  convenience." 

"  Then,  again,"  said  my  wife,  "  there  are  the  depart- 
ments of  millinery  and  dressmaking,  and  the  various 
branches  of  needle-work,  which  afford  employment  to 
thousands  of  women  ;  there  is  type-setting,  by  which 
many  are  beginning  to  get  a  living ;  there  are  the 
manufactures  of  cotton,  woollen,  silk,  and  the  num- 
berless useful  articles  which  employ  female  hands  in 
their  fabrication,  —  all  of  them  opening  avenues  by 
which,  with  more  or  less  success,  a  subsistence  can  be 
gained." 

"  Well,  really,"  said  Bob,  "  it  would  appear,  after 
all,  that  there  are  abundance  of  openings  for  women. 
What  is  the  cause  of  the  outcry  and  distress  ?  How 
is  it  that  we  hear  of  women  starving,  driven  to  vice 
and  crime  by  want,  when  so  many  doors  of  useful  and 
profitable  employment  stand  open  to  them  ? " 

"  The  question  would  easily  be  solved,"  said  my  wife, 
"  if  you  could  once  see  the  kind  and  class  of  women 
who  thus  suffer  and  starve.  There  may  be  exceptions, 
but  too  large  a  portion  of  them  are  girls  and  women 
who  can  or  will  do  no  earthly  thing  well,  —  and  what 


44  The  Chimney-Comer. 

is  worse,  are  not  willing  to  take  the  pains  to  be  taught 
to  do  anything  well.  I  will  describe  to  you  one  girl, 
and  you  will  find  in  every  intelligence-office  a  hundred 
of  her  kind  to  five  thoroughly  trained  ones. 

"  Imprimis  :  she  is  rather  delicate  and  genteel-look- 
ing, and  you  may  know  from  the  arrangement  of  her 
hair  just  what  the  last  mode  is  of  disposing  of  rats  or 
waterfalls.  She  has  a  lace  bonnet  with  roses,  a  silk 
mantilla,  a  silk  dress  trimmed  with  velvet,  a  white 
skirt  with  sixteen  tucks  and  an  embroidered  edge,  a 
pair  of  cloth  gaiters,  underneath  which  are  a  pair  of 
stockings  without  feet,  the  only  pair  in  her  possession. 
She  has  no  under-linen,  and  sleeps  at  night  in  the 
working-clothes  she  wears  in  the  day.  She  never 
seems  to  have  in  her  outfit  either  comb,  brush,  or 
tooth-brush  of  her  own,  —  neither  needles,  thread, 
scissors,  nor  pins  ,-  her  money,  when  she  has  any, 
being  spent  on  more  important  articles,  such  as  the 
lace  bonnet  or  silk  mantilla,  or  the  rats'  and  waterfalls 
that  glorify  her  head.  When  she  wishes  to  sew,  she 
borrows  what  is  needful  of  a  convenient  next  neigh- 
bor ;  and  if  she  gets  a  place  in  a  family  as  second 
girl,  she  expects  to  subsist  in  these  respects  by  bor- 
rowing of  the  better-appointed  servants,  or  helping 
herself  from  the  family  stores. 

"  She  expects,  of  course,  the  very  highest  wages,  if 
she  condescends  to  live  out ;  and  by  help  of  a  trim 


Woman's  Sphere.  45 

outside  appearance  and  the  many  vacancies  that  are 
continually  occurring  in  households,  she  gets  places, 
where  her  object  is  to  do  just  as  little  of  any  duty 
assigned  to  her  as  possible,  to  hurry  through  her  per- 
formances, put  on  her  fine  clothes,  and  go  a-gadding. 
She  is  on  free  and  easy  terms  with  all  the. men  she 
meets,  and  ready  at  jests  and  repartee,  sometimes  far 
from  seemly.  Her  time  of  service  in  any  one  place 
lasts  indifferently  from  a  fortnight  to  two  or  three 
months,  when  she  takes  her  wages,  buys  her  a  new 
parasol  in  the  latest  style,  and  goes  back  to  the  intelli- 
gence-office. In  the  different  families  where  she  has 
lived  she  has  been  told  a  hundred  times  the  pro- 
prieties of  household  life,  how  to  make  beds,  arrange 
roOms,  wash  china,  glass,  and  silver,  and  set  tables  ; 
but  her  habitual  rule  is  to  try  in  each  place  how  small 
and  how  poor  services  will  be  accepted.  When  she 
finds  less  will  not  do,  she  gives  more.  When  the  mis- 
tress follows  her  constantly,  and  shows  an  energetic 
determination  to  be  well  served,  she  shows  that  she 
can  serve  well ;  but  the  moment  such  attention  relaxes, 
she  slides  back  again.  She  is  as  destructive  to  a 
house  as  a  fire ;  the  very  spirit  of  wastefulness  is  in 
her  ;  she  cracks  the  china,  dents  the  silver,  stops  the 
water-pipes  with  rubbish,  and  after  she  is  gone,  there 
is  generally  a  sum  equal  to  half  her  wages  to  be  ex- 
pended in  repairing  the  effects  of  her  carelessness. 


46  The  Chimney-Comer. 

And  yet  there  is  one  thing  to  be  said  for  her  :  she  is 
quite  as  careful  of  her  employer's  things  as  of  her 
own.  The  full  amount  of  her  mischiefs  often  does 
not  appear  at  once,  as  she  is  glib  of  tongue,  adroit  in 
apologies,  and  lies  with  as  much  alertness  and  as  little 
thought  of  conscience  as  a  blackbird  chatters.  It  is 
difficult  for  people  who  have  been  trained  from  child- 
hood in  the  school  of  verities,  —  who  have  been 
lectured  for  even  the  shadow  of  a  prevarication,  and 
shut  up  in  disgrace  for  a  lie,  till  truth  becomes  a  habit 
of  their  souls,  —  it  is  very  difficult  for  people  so  edu- 
cated to  understand  how  to  get  on  with  those  who 
never  speak  the  truth  except  by  mere  accident,  who 
assert  any  and  everything  that  comes  into  their  heads 
with  all  the  assurance  and  -all  the  energy  of  perfect 
verity. 

"  What  becomes  of  this  girl  ?  She  finds  means,  by 
begging,  borrowing,  living  out,  to  keep  herself  ex- 
tremely trim  and  airy  for  a  certain  length  of  time,  till 
the  rats  and  waterfalls,  the  lace  hat  and  parasol,  and 
the  glib  tongue,  have  done  their  work  in  making  a 
fool  of  some  honest  young  mechanic  who  earns  three 
dollars  a  day.  She  marries  him  with  no  higher  object 
than  to  have  somebody  to  earn  money  for  her  to 
spend.  And  what  comes  of  such  marriages  ? 

"  That  is  one  ending  of  her  career ;  the  other  is  on 
the  street,  in  haunts  of  vice,  in  prison,  in  drunkenness, 
and  death. 


Woman  s  Sphere.  47 

.  "  Whence  come  these  girls  ?  They  are  as  numer- 
ous as  yellow  butterflies  in  autumn  ;  they  flutter  up  to 
cities  from  the  country ;  they  grow  up  from  mothers 
who  ran  the  same  sort  of  career  before  them  ;  and  the 
reason  why  in  the  end  they  fall  out  of  all  reputable 
employment  and  starve  on  poor  wages  is,  that  they 
become  physically,  mentally,  and  morally  incapable  of 
rendering  any  service  which  society  will  think  worth 
paying  for." 

"  I  remember,"  said  I,  "  that  the  head  of  the  most 
celebrated  dress-making  establishment  in  New  York, 
in  reply  to  the  appeals  of  the  needle-women  of  the 
city  for  sympathy  and  wages,  came  out  with  published 
statements  to  this  effect :  that  the  difficulty  lay  not  in 
unwillingness  of  employers  to  pay  what  work  was 
worth,  but  in  finding  any  work  worth  paying  for  ;  th*at 
she  had  many  applicants,  but  among  them  few  who 
could  be  of  real  use  to  her  ;  that  she,  in  common  with 
everybody  in  this  country  who  has  any  kind  of  serious 
responsibilities  to  carry,  was  continually  embarrassed 
for  want  of  skilled  work-people,  who  could  take  and 
go  on  with  the  labor  of  her  various  departments  with- 
out her  constant  supervision  ;  that  out  of  a  hundred 
girls,  there  would  not  be  more  than  five  to  whom  she 
could  give  a  dress  to  be  made  and  dismiss  it  from  her 
mind  as  something  certain  to  be  properly  done. 

"  Let  people  individually  look  around-  their  own  lit- 


48  The  Chimney-Comer. 

tie  sphere,  and  ask  themselves  if  they  know  any  wo- 
man really  excelling  in  any  valuable  calling  or  accom- 
plishment who  is  suffering  for  wanfof  work.  All  of 
us  know  seamstresses,  dress-makers,  nurses,  and  laun- 
dresses, who  have  made  themselves  such  £  reputation, 
and  are  so  beset  and  overcrowded  with  work,  that  the 
whole  neighborhood  is  constantly  on  its  knees  to  them 
with  uplifted  hands.  The  fine  seamstress,  who  can 
cut  and  make  trousseaus  and  layettes  in  elegant  per- 
fection, is  always  engaged  six  months  in  advance  ;  the 
pet  dress-maker  of  a  neighborhood  must  be  engaged 
in  May  for  September,  and  in  September  for  May  ;  a 
laundress  who  sends  your  clothes  home  in  nice  order 
always  has  all  the  work  that  she  can  do.  Good  work 
in  any  department  is  the  rarest  possible  thing  in  our 
American  life  ;  and  it  is  a  fact  that  the  great  majority 
of  workers,  both  in  the  family  and  out,  do  only  toler- 
ably well,  —  not  so  badly  that  it  actually  cannot  be 
borne,  yet  not  so  well  as  to  be  a  source  of  real, 
thorough  satisfaction.  The  exceptional  worker  in 
every  neighborhood,  who  does  things  really  we/I,  can 
always  set  her  own  price,  and  is  always  having  more 
offering  than  she  can  possibly  do. 

"  The  trouble,  then,  in  finding  employment  for  wo- 
men lies  deeper  than  the  purses  or  consciences  of  the 
employers  ;  it  lies  in  the  want  of  education  in  women  ; 
the  want  of  education,  I  say,  —  meaning  by  education 


Woman  s  Sphere.  49 

that  which  fits  a  woman  for  practical  and  profitable 
employment  in  life,  and  not  mere  common  school 
learning." 

"  Yes,"  said  my  wife  ;  "  for  it  is  a  fact  that  the  most 
troublesome  and  hopeless  persons  to  provide  for  are 
often  those  who  have  a  good  medium  education,  but 
no  feminine  habits,  no  industry,  no  practical  calcula- 
tion, no  muscular  strength,  and  no  knowledge  of  any 
one  of  woman's  peculiar  duties.  In  the  earlier  days  of 
New  England,  women,  as  a  class,  had  far  fewer  oppor- 
tunities for  acquiring  learning,  yet  were  far  better 
educated,  physically  and  morally,  than  now.  The 
high  school  did  not  exist ;  at  the  common  school  they 
learned  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic,  and  practised 
spelling ;  while  at  home  they  did  the  work  of  the 
household.  They  were  cheerful,  bright,  active,  ever 
on  the  alert,  able  to  do  anything,  from  the  harnessing 
and  driving  of  a  horse  to  the  finest  embroidery.  The 
daughters  of  New  England  in  those  days  looked  the 
world  in  the  face  without  a  fear.  They  shunned  no 
labor ;  they  were  afraid  of  none  ;  and  they  could  al- 
ways find  their  way  to  a  living." 

"  But  although  less  instructed  in  school  learning," 
said  I,  "they  showed  no  deficiency  in  intellectual 
acumen.  I  see  no  such  women,  nowadays,  as  some 
I  remember  of  that  olden  time,  —  women  whose 
strong  minds  and  ever  active  industry  carried  on 
3  » 


50  The  CJiimney-Corncr. 

reading  and  study  side  by  side  with  household 
toils. 

"  I  remember  a  young  lady  friend  of  mine,  attend- 
ing a  celebrated  boarding-school,  boarded  in  the  fam- 
ily of  a  woman  who  had  never  been  to  school  longer 
than  was  necessary  to  learn  to  read  and  write,  yet 
who  was  a  perfect  cyclopedia  of  general  information. 
The  young  scholar  used  to  take  her  Chemistry  and 
Natural  Philosophy  into  the  kitchen,  where  her  friend 
was  busy  with  her  household  work,  and  read  her  les- 
sons to  her,  that  she  might  have  the  benefit  of  her 
explanations ;  and  so,  while  the  good  lady  scoured 
her  andirons  or  kneaded  her  bread,  she  lectured  to 
her  protegee  on  mysteries  of  science  far  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  text-book.  Many  of  the  graduates  of 
our  modern  high  schools  would  find  it  hard  to  shine 
in  conversation  on  the  subjects  they  had  studied,  in 
the  searching  presence  of  some  of  these  vigorous 
matrons  of  the  olden  time,  whose  only  school  had 
been  the  leisure  hours  gained  by  energy  and  method 
from  their  family  cares." 

"  And  in  those  days,"  said  my  wife,  "  there  lived  in 
our  families  a  class  of  American  domestics,  women  of 
good  sense  and  good  powers  of  reflection,  who  applied 
this  sense  and  power  of  reflection  to  household  mat- 
ters. In  the  early  part  of  my  married  life,  I  myself 
had  American  '  help  ' ;  and  they  were  not  only  excel- 


Woman's  Sphere.  51 

lent  servants,  but  trusty  and  invaluable  friends.  But 
now,  all  this  class  of  applicants  for  domestic  service 
have  disappeared,  I  scarce  know  why  or  how.  All  I 
know  is,  there  is  no  more  a  Betsey  or  a  Lois,  such  as 
used  to  take  domestic  cares  off  my  shoulders  so  com- 
pletely." 

"  Good  heavens  !  where  are  they  ? "  cried  Bob. 
"  Where  do  they  hide  ?  I  would  search  through  the 
world  after  such  a  prodigy  !  " 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  I,  "  there  has  been  a  slow  and 
gradual  reaction  against  household  labor  in  America. 
Mothers  began  to  feel  that  it  was  a  sort  of  curse,  to  be 
spared,  if  possible,  to  their  daughters ;  women  began 
to  feel  that  they  were  fortunate  in  proportion  as  they 
were  able  to  be  entirely  clear  of  family  responsibilities. 
Then  Irish  labor  began  to  come  in,  simultaneously 
with  a  great  advance  in  female  education. 

"For  a  long  while  nothing  was  talked  of,  written 
of,  thought  of,  in  teachers'  meetings,  conventions, 
and  assemblies,  but  the  neglected  state  of  female 
education ;  and  the  whole  circle  of  the  arts  and  sci- 
ences was  suddenly  introduced  into  our  free-school 
system,  from  which  needle-work  as  gradually  and 
quietly  was  suffered  to  drop  out.  The  girl  who  at- 
tended the  primary  and  high  school  had  so  much 
study  imposed  on  her  that  she  had  no  time  for  sewing 
or  housework ;  and  the  delighted  mother  was  only 


52  The  Chimney-Corner. 

too  happy  to  darn  her  stockings  and  do  the  house- 
work alone,  that  her  daughter  might  rise  to  a  higher 
plane  than  she  herself  had  attained  to.  The  daugh- 
ter, thus  educated,  had,  on  coming  to  womanhood,  no 
solidity  of  muscle,  no  manual  dexterity,  no  practice  or 
experience  in  domestic  life ;  and  if  she  were  to  seek  a 
livelihood,  there  remained  only  teaching,  or  some 
feminine  trade,  or  the  factory." 

"These  factories,"  said  my  wife,  "have  been  the 
ruin  of  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  our  once  healthy 
farmers'  daughters  and  others  from  the  country. 
They  go  there  young  and  unprotected  ;  they  live  there 
in  great  boarding-houses,  and  associate  with  a  pro- 
miscuous crowd,  without  even  such  restraints  of  mater- 
nal supervision  as  they  would  have  in  great  boarding- 
schools  ;  their  bodies  are  enfeebled  by  labor  often 
necessarily  carried  on  in  a  foul  and  heated  atmos- 
phere ;  and  at.  the  hours  when  off  duty,  they  are  ex- 
posed to  all  the  dangers  of  unwatched  intimacy  with 
the  other  sex. 

"  Moreover,  the  factory-girl  learns  and  practises  but 
one  thing,  —  some  one  mechanical  movement,  which 
gives  no  scope  for  invention,  ingenuity,  or  any  other 
of  the  powers  called  into  play  by  domestic  labor  ;  so 
that  she  is  in  reality  unfitted  in  every  way  for  family 
duties. 

"  Many  times  it  has  been  my  lot  to  try,  in  my  fam- 


Woman 's  Sphere.  53 

ily  service,  girls  who  have  left  factories  ;  and  I  have 
found  them  wholly  useless  for  any  of  the  things  which 
a  woman  ought  to  be  good  for.  They  knew  nothing 
of  a  house,  or  what  ought  to  be  done  in  it  j  they  had 
imbibed  a  thorough  contempt  of  household  labor,  and 
looked  upon  it  but  as  a  dernier  ressort ;  and  it  was  only 
the  very  lightest  of  its  tasks  that  they  could  even  be- 
gin to  think  of.  I  remember  I  tried  to  persuade  one 
of  these  girls,  the  pretty  daughter  of  a  fisherman,  to 
take  some  lessons  in  washing  and  ironing.  She  was 
at  that  time  engaged  to  be  married  to  a  young  me- 
chanic, who  earned  something  like  two  or  three  dollars 
a  day. 

"  '  My  child,'  said  I,  '  you  will  need  to  understand 
all  kinds  of  housework,  if  you  are  going  to  be  mar- 
ried.' 

"  She  tossed  her  little  head,  — 

"  '  Indeed,  she  was  n't  going  to  trouble  herself  about 
that.' 

"  '  But  who  will  get  up  your  husband's  shirts  ? ' 

"  '  O,  he  must  put  them  out.  I  'm  not  going  to  be 
married  to  make  a  slave  of  myself! ' 

"Another  young  factory-girl,  who  came  for  table 
and  parlor  work,  was  so  full  of  airs  and  fine  notions, 
that  it  seemed  as  difficult  to  treat  with  her  as  with  a 
princess.  She  could  not  sweep,  because  it  blistered 
her  hands,  which,  in  fact,  were  long  and  delicate  ;  she 


54  The  Chimney-Comer. 

could  not  think  of  putting  them  into  hot  dish-water, 
and  for  that  reason  preferred  washing  the  dishes  in 
cold  water ;  she  required  a  full  hour  in  the  morning 
to  make  her  toilet ;  she  was  laced  so  tightly  that  she 
could  not  stoop  without  vertigo,  and  her  hoops  were 
of  dimensions  which  seemed  to  render  it  impossible 
for  her  to  wait  upon  table  ;  she  was  quite  exhausted 
with  the  effort  of  ironing  the  table-napkins  and  cham- 
ber-towels;—  yet  she  could  not  think  of  '  living  out' 
under  two  dollars  a  week. 

"  Both  these  girls  had  had  a  good  free-school  educa- 
tion, and  could  read  any  amount  of  novels,  write  a 
tolerable  letter,  but  had  not  learned  anything  with 
sufficient  accuracy  to  fit  them  for  teachers.  They 
were  pretty,  and  their  destiny  was  to  marry  and  lie  a 
dead  weight  on  the  hands  of  some  honest  man,  and 
to  increase,  in  their  children,  the  number  of  incapa- 
bles." 

"  Well,"  said  Bob,  "  what  would  you  have  ?  What 
is  to  be  done  ? " 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  I,  "  I  would  have  it  felt 
by  those  who  are  seeking  to  elevate  woman,  that  the 
work  is  to  be  done,  not  so  much  by  creating  for  her 
new  spheres  of  action  as  by  elevating  her  conceptions 
of  that  domestic  vocation  to  which  God  and  Nature 
have  assigned  her.  It  is  all  very  well  to  open  to  her 
avenues  of  profit  and  advancement  in  the  great  outer 


Woma?is  Sphere.  55 

world  ;  but,  after  all,  to  make  and  keep  a  home  is,  and 
ever  must  be,  a  woman's  first  glory,  her  highest  aim. 
No  work  of  art  can  compare  with  a  perfect  home  • 
the  training  and  guiding  of  a  family  must  be  recog- 
nized as  the  highest  work  a  woman  can  perform  ;  and 
female  education  ought  to  be  conducted  with  special 
reference  to  this. 

"  Men  are  trained  to  be  lawyers,  to  be  physicians, 
to  be  mechanics,  by  long  and  self-denying  study  and 
practice.  A  man  cannot  even  make  shoes  merely  by 
going  to  the  high  school,  and  learning  reading,  writing, 
and  mathematics ;  he  cannot  be  a  book-keeper  or  a 
printer  simply  from  general  education. 

"  Now  women  have  a  sphere  and  profession  of 
their  own,  —  a  profession  for  which  they  are  fitted  by 
physical  organization,  by  their  own  instincts,  and  to 
which  they  are  directed  by  the  pointing  and  manifest 
finger  of  God,  —  and  that  sphere  is  family  life. 

"Duties  to  the  State  and  to  public  life  they  may 
have ;  but  the  public  duties  of  women  must  bear  to 
their  family  ones  the  same  relation  that  the  family 
duties  of  men  bear  to  their  public  ones. 

"  The  defect  in  the  late  efforts  to  push  on  female 
education  is,  that  it  has  been  for  her  merely  general, 
and  that  it  has  left  out  and  excluded  all  that  is 
professional ;  and  she  undertakes  the  essential  duties 
of  womanhood,  when  they  do  devolve  on  her,  without 
any  adequate  preparation." 


56  The  Chimncy-Conier. 

"  But  is  it  possible  for  a  girl  to  learn  at  school  the 
things  which  fit  her  for  family  life  ? "  said  Bob. 

"Why  not?"  I  replied.  "Once  it  was  thought  im- 
possible in  schools  to  teach  girls  geometry,  or  algebra, 
or  the  higher  mathematics  ;  it  was  thought  impossible 
to  put  them  through  collegiate  courses ;  but  it  has 
been  done,  and  we  see  it.  Women  study  treatises  on 
political  economy  in  schools  ;  and  why  should  not  the 
study  of  domestic  economy  form  a  part  of  every 
school  course  ?  A  young  girl  will  stand  up  at  the 
blackboard,  and  draw  and  explain*  the  compound 
blowpipe,  and  describe  all  the  process  of  making 
oxygen  and  hydrogen.  Why  should  she  not  draw  and 
explain  a  refrigerator  as  well  as  an  air-pump  ?  Both 
are  to  be  explained  on  philosophical  principles. 
When  a  school-girl,  in  her  Chemistry,  studies  the 
reciprocal  action  of  acids  and  alkalies,  what  is  there 
to  hinder  the  teaching  her  its  application  to  the  vari- 
ous processes  of  cooking  where  acids  and  alkalies  are 
employed?  Why  should  she  not  be  led  to  see  how 
effervescence  and  fermentation  can  be  made  to  per- 
form their  office  in  the  preparation  of  light  and  di- 
gestible bread?  Why  should  she  not  be  taught  the 
chemical  substances  by  which  food  is  often  adulter- 
ated, and  the  tests  by  which  such  adulterations  are 
detected  ?  Why  should  she  not  understand  the 
processes  of  confectionery,  and  know  how  to  guard 


Woman  s  Sphere.  57 

against  the  deleterious  or  poisonous  elements  that  are 
introduced  into  children's  sugar-plums  and  candies? 
Why,  when  she  learns  the  doctrine  of  mordants,  the 
substances  by  which  different  colors  are  set,  should  she 
not  learn  it  with  some  practical  view  to  future  life,  so 
that  she  may  know  how  to  set  the  color  of  a  fading 
calico  or  restore  the  color  of  a  spotted  one  ?  Why,  in 
short,  when  a  girl  has  labored  through  a  profound 
chemical  work,  and  listened  to  courses  of  chemical 
lectures,  should  she  come  to  domestic  life,  which 
presents  a  constant  series  of  chemical  experiments  and 
changes,  and  go  blindly  along  as  without  chart  or 
compass,  unable  to  tell  what  will  take  out  a  stain,  or 
what  will  brighten,  a  metal,  what  are  common  poisons 
arfd  what  their  antidotes,  and  not  knowing  enough  of 
the  laws  of  caloric  to  understand  how  to  warm  a 
house,  or  of  the  laws  of  atmosphere  to  know  how  to 
ventilate  one  ?  Why  should  the  preparation  of  food, 
that  subtile  art  on  which  life,  health,  cheerfulness, 
good  temper,  and  good  looks  so  largely  depend,  for- 
ever be  left  in  the  hands  of  the  illiterate  and  vulgar  ? 

"  A  benevolent  gentleman  has  lately  left  a  large 
fortune  for  the  founding  of  a  university  for  women ;  and 
the  object  is  stated  to  be  to  give  women  who  have 
already  acquired  a  general  education  the  means  of 
acquiring  a  professional  one,  to  fit  themselves  for  some 
employment  by  which  they  may  gain  a  livelihood. 
31 


58  The  Chimney-Comer. 

"In  this  institution  the  women  are  to  be  instructed 
in  book-keeping,  stenography,  telegraphing,  photo- 
graphing, drawing,  modelling,  and  various  other  arts ; 
but  so  far  as  I  remember,  there  is  no  proposal  to  teach 
domestic  economy  as  at  least  one  of  woman's  pro- 
fessions. 

"  Why  should  there  not  be  a  professor  of  domestic 
economy  in  every  large  female  school  ?  Why  should' 
not  this  professor  give  lectures,  first  on  house-plan- 
ning  and  building,  illustrated  by  appropriate  appara- 
tus ?  Why  should  not  the  pupils  have  presented  to 
their  inspection  models  of  houses  planned  with 
reference  to  economy,  to  ease  of  domestic  service,  to 
warmth,  to  ventilation,  and  to  architectural  appear- 
ance ?  Why  should  not  the  professor  go  on  to  lecture 
further  on  house-fixtures,  with  models  of  the  best 
mangles,  washing-machines,  clothes-wringers,  ranges, 
furnaces,  and  cooking-stoves,  together  with  drawings 
and  apparatus  illustrative  of  domestic  hydraulics, 
showing  the  best  contrivances  for  bathing-rooms  and 
the  obvious  principles  of  plumbing,  so  that  the  pupils 
may  have  some  idea  how  to  work  the  machinery  of  a 
convenient  house  when  they  have  it,  and  to  have  such 
conveniences  introduced  when  wanting?  If  it  is 
thought  worth  while  to  provide,  at  great  expense, 
apparatus  for  teaching  the  revolutions  of  Saturn's 
moons  and  the  precession  of  the  equinoxes,  why 


Woman  s  Sphere.  59 

i 

should  there  not  be  some  also  to  teach  what  it  may 
greatly  concern  a  woman's  earthly  happiness  to 
know  ? 

"  Why  should  not  the  professor  lecture  on  home- 
chemistry,  devoting  his  first  lecture  to  bread-making  ? 
and  why  might  not  a  batch  of  bread  be  made  and 
baked  and  exhibited  to  the  class,  together  with  speci- 
mens of  morbid  anatomy  in  the  bread  line,  —  the  sour 
cotton  bread  of  the  baker,  —  the  rough,  big-holed 
bread, — the  heavy,  fossil  bread, — the  bitter  bread 
of  too  much  yeast,  —  and  the  causes  of  their  defects 
pointed  out  ?  And  so  with  regard  to  the  various  arti- 
cles of  food,  —  why  might  not  chemical  lectures  be 
given  on  all  of  them,  one  after  another  ?  In  short,  it 
would  be  easy  to  trace  out  a  course  of  lectures  on 
common  things  to  occupy  a  whole  year,  and  for  which 
the  pupils,  whenever  they  come  to  have  homes  of 
their  own,  will  thank  the  lecturer  to  the  last  day  of 
their  life. 

"  Then  there  is  no  impossibility  in  teaching  needle- 
work, the  cutting  and  fitting  of  dresses,  in  female 
schools.  The  thing  is  done  very  perfectly  in  English 
schools  for  the  working  classes.  A  girl  trained  at  one 
of  these  schools  came  into  a  family  I  once  knew. 
She  brought  with  her  a  sewing-book,  in  which  the 
process  of  making  various  articles  was  exhibited  in 
miniature.  The  several  parts  of  a  shirt  were  first 


60  The  Chinmey-Corncr. 

shown,  each  perfectly  made,  and  fastened  to  a  leaf  of 
the  book  by  itself,  and  then  the  successive  steps  of 
uniting  the  parts,  till  finally  appeared  a  miniature 
model  of  the  whole.  The  sewing  was  done  with  red 
thread,  so  that  every  stitch  might  show,  and  any 
imperfection  be  at  once  remedied.  The  same  process 
was  pursued  with  regard  to  other  garments,  and  a  good 
general  idea  of  cutting  and  fitting  them  was  thus 
given  to  an  entire  class  of  girls. 

"  In  the  same  manner  the  care  and  nursing  of 
young  children  and  the  tending  of  the  sick  might  be 
made  the  subject  of  lectures.  Every  woman  ought  to 
have  some  general  principles  to  guide  her  with  regard 
to  what  is  to  be  done  in  case  of  the  various  accidents 
that  may  befall  either  children  or  grown  people,  and 
of  their  lesser  illnesses,  and  ought  to  know  how  to  pre- 
pare comforts  and  nourishment  for  the  sick.  Haw- 
thorne's satirical  remarks  upon  the  contrast  between 
the  elegant  Zenobia's  conversation  and  the  smoky 
porridge  she  made  for  him  when  he  was  an  invalid 
might  apply  to  the  volunteer  cookery  of  many  charm- 
ing women." 

"  I  think,"  said  Bob,  "  that  your  Professor  of  Do- 
mestic Economy  would  find  enough  to  occupy  his 
pupils." 

"  In  fact,"  said  I,  "  were  domestic  economy  properly 
honored  and  properly  taught,  in  the  manner  described, 


Woman's  Sphere.  61 

it  would  open  a  sphere  of  employment  to  so  many 
women  in  the  home  life,  that  we  should  not  be  obliged 
to  send  our  women  out  to  California  or  the  Pacific  to 
put  an  end  to  an  anxious  and  aimless  life. 

"  When  domestic  work  is  sufficiently  honored  to  be 
taught  as  an  art  and  science  in  our  boarding-schools 
and  high  schools,  then  possibly  it  may  acquire  also 
dignity  in  the  eyes  of  our  working  classes,  and  young 
girls  who  have  to  earn  their  own  living  may  no  longer 
feel  degraded  in  engaging  in  domestic  service.  The 
place  of  a  domestic  in  a  family  may  become  as  respect- 
able in  their  eyes  as  a  place  in  a  factory,  in  a  print- 
ing-office, in  a  dressmaking  or  millinery  establish- 
ment, or  behind  the  counter  of  a  shop. 

"  In  America  there  is  no  class  which  will  confess 
itself  the  lower  class,  and  a  thing  recommended  solely 
for  the  benefit  of  any  such  class  finds  no  one  to  re- 
ceive it. 

"  If  the  intelligent  and  cultivated  look  down  on 
household  work  with  disdain ;  if  they  consider  it  as 
degrading,  a  thing  to  be  shunned  by  every  possible 
device  ;  they  may  depend  upon  it  that  the  influence  of 
such  contempt  of  woman's  noble  duties  will  flow 
downward,  producing  a  like  contempt  in  every  class 
in  life. 

"  Our  sovereign  princesses  learn  the  doctrine  of 
equality  very  quickly,  and  are  not  going  to  sacrifice 


62  The  Chimney-Corner. 

themselves  to  what  is  not  considered  de  bon  ton  by  the 
upper  classes ;  and  the  girl  with  the  laced  hat  and 
parasol,  without  under-clothes,  who  does  her  best  to 
'  shirk '  her  duties  as  housemaid,  and  is  looking  for 
marriage  as  an  escape  from  work,  is  a  fair  copy  of  her 
mistress,  who  married  for  much  the  same  reason,  who 
hates  housekeeping,  and  would  rather  board  or  do 
anything  else  than  have  the  care  of  a  family ;  —  the 
one  is  about  as  respectable  as  the  other. 

"  When  housekeeping  becomes  an  enthusiasm,  and 
its  study  and  practice  a  fashion,  then  we  shall  have  in 
America  that  class  of  persons  to  rely  on  for  help  in 
household  labors  who  are  now  going  to  factories,  to 
printing-offices,  to  every  kind  of  toil,  forgetful  of  the 
best  life  and  sphere  of  woman." 


III. 

A    FAMILY-TALK    ON    RECONSTRUCTION. 

OUR  Chimney-Corner,  of  which  we  have  spoken 
somewhat,  has,   besides   the   wonted   domestic 
circle,  its   habitues  who  have   a  frequent  seat  there. 
Among  these,  none  is  more  welcome  than  Theophilus 
Thoro. 

Friend  Theophilus  was  born  on  the  shady  side  of 
Nature,  and  endowed  by  his  patron  saint  with  every 
grace  and  gift  which  can  make  a  human  creature 
worthy  and  available,  except  the  gift  of  seeing  the 
bright  side  of  things.  His  bead-roll  of  Christian 
virtues  includes  all  the  graces  of  the  spirit  except 
hope  ;  and  so,  if  one  wants  to  know  exactly  the  flaw, 
the  defect,  the  doubtful  side,  and  to  take  into  ac- 
count all  the  untoward  possibilities  of  any  person, 
place,  or  thing,  he  had  best  apply  to  friend  The- 
ophilus. He  can  tell  you  just  where  and  how  the 
best-laid  scheme  is  likely  to  fail,  just  the  screw  that 
will  fall  loose  in  the  smoothest-working  machinery, 


64  The  Chimney-Comer. 

just  the  flaw  in  the  most  perfect  character,  just  the 
defect  in  the  best- written  book,  just  the  variety  of 
thorn  that  must  accompany  each  particular  species  of 
rose. 

Yet  Theophilus  is  without  guile  or  malice.  His 
want  of  faith  in  human  nature  is  not  bitter  and  censo- 
rious, but  melting  and  pitiful.  "  We  are  all  poor 
trash,  miserable  dogs  together,"  he  seems  to  say,  as 
he  looks  out  on  the  world  and  its  ways.  There  is  not 
much  to  be  expected  of  or  for  any  of  us  ;  but  let  us 
love  one  another,  and  be  patient. 

Accordingly,  Theophilus  is  one  of  the  most  inces- 
sant workers  for  human  good,  and  perseveringly  busy 
in  every  scheme  of  benevolent  enterprise,  in  all  which 
he  labors  with  melancholy  steadiness  without  hope. 
In  religion  he  has  the  soul  of  a  martyr,  —  nothing 
would  suit  him  better  than  to  be  burned  alive  for  his 
faith ;  but  his  belief  in  the  success  of  Christianity  is 
about  on  a  par  with  that  of  the  melancholy  disciple 
of  old,  who,  when  Christ  would  go  to  Judsea,  could 
only  say,  "  Let  us  also  go,  that  we  may  die  with  him." 
Theophilus  is  always  ready  to  die  for  the  truth  and 
the  right,  for  which  he  never  sees  anything  but  defeat 
and  destruction  ahead. 

During  the  -late  war,  Theophilus  has  been  a  despair- 
ing patriot,  dying  daily,  and  giving  all  up  for  lost  in 
every  reverse  from  Bull  Run  to  Fredericksburg.  The 


A  Family-Talk  on  Reconstruction.         65 

surrender  of  Richmond  and  the  capitulation  of  Lee 
shortened  his  visage  somewhat ;  but  the  murder  of 
the  President  soon  brought  it  back  to  its  old  length. 
It  is  true,  that,  while  Lincoln  lived,  he  was  in  a  per- 
petual state  of  dissent  from  all  his  measures.  He 
had  broken  his  heart  for  years  over  the  miseries  of  the 
slaves,  but  he  shuddered  at  the  Emancipation  Procla- 
mation ;  a  whirlwind  of  anarchy  was  about  to  sweep 
over  the  country,  in  which  the  black  and  the  white 
would  dash  against  each  other,  and  be  shivered  like 
potters'  vessels.  He  was  in  despair  at  the  accession 
of  Johnson,  —  believing  the  worst  of  the  unfavorable 
reports  that  clouded  his  reputation.  Nevertheless,  he 
was  among  the  first  of  loyal  citizens  to  rally  to  the 
support  of  the  new  administration,  because,  though  he 
had  no  hope  in  that,  he  could  see  nothing  better. 

You  must  not  infer  from  all  this  that  friend  Theoph- 
ilus  is  a  social  wet  blanket,  a  goblin  shadow  at  the 
domestic  hearth.  By  no  means.  Nature  has  gifted 
him  with  that  vein  of  humor  and  that  impulse  to 
friendly  joviality  which  are  frequent  developments  in 
sad-natured  men,  and  often  deceive  superficial  ob- 
servers as  to  their  real  character.  He  who  laughs 
well  and  makes  you  laugh  is  often  called  a  man  of 
cheerful  disposition  ;  yet  in  many  cases  nothing  can 
be  further  from  it  than  precisely  this  kind  of  person. 

Theophilus  frequents  our  chimney-corner,  perhaps 


66  The  Chimney-Corner. 

because  Mrs.  Crowfield  and  myself  are,  so  to  speak, 
children  of  the  light  and  the  day.  My  wife  has  pre- 
cisely the  opposite  talent  to  that  of  our  friend.  She 
can  discover  the  good  point,  the  sound  spot,  where 
others  see  only  defect  and  corruption.  I  myself  am 
somewhat  sanguine,  and  prone  rather  to  expect  good 
than  evil,  and  with  a  vast  stock  of  faith  in  the  excel- 
lent things  that  may  turn  up  in  the  future.  The  Mil- 
lennium is  one  of  the  prime  articles  of  my  creed  ; 
and  all  the  ups  and  downs  of  society  I  regard  only  as 
so  many  jolts  on  a  very  rough  road  that  is  taking  the 
world  on,  through  many  upsets  and  disasters,  to  that 
final  consummation. 

Theophilus  holds  the  same  belief,  theoretically ; 
but  it  is  apt  to  sink  so  far  out  of  sight  in  the  mire  of 
present  disaster  as  to  be  of  very  little  comfort  to 
him. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  we  are  going  to  ruin,  in  my  view, 
about  as  fast  as  we  can  go.  Miss  Jennie,  I  will 
trouble  you  for  another  small  lump  of  sugar  in  my 
tea." 

"You  have  been  saying  that,  about  our  going  to 
ruin,  every  time  you  have  taken  tea  here  for  four  years 
past,"  said  Jennie  ;  "  but  I  always  noticed  that  your 
fears  never  spoiled  your  relish  either  for  tea  or  muffins. 
People  talk  about  being  on  the  brink  of  a  volcano, 
and  the  country  going  to  destruction,  and  all  that, 


A  Family-Talk  on  Reconstruction.         67 

just  as  they  put  pepper  on  their  potatoes;  it  is  an 
agreeable  stimulant  in  conversation,  —  that 's  all." 

"  For  my  part,"  said  my  wife,  "  I  can  speak  in 
another  vein.  When  had  we  ever  in  all  our  history  so 
bright  prospects,  so  much  to  be  thankful  for  ?  Slavery 
is  abolished  ;  the  last  stain  of  disgrace  is  wiped  from 
our  national  honor.  We  stand  now  before  the  world 
self-consistent  with  our  principles.  We  have  come 
out  of  one  of  the  severest  struggles  that  ever  tried  a 
nation,  purer  and  stronger  in  morals  and  religion,  as 
well  as  more  prosperous  in  material  things." 

"  My  dear  madam,  excuse  me,"  said  Theophilus  ; 
"  but  I  cannot  help  being  reminded  of  what  an  Eng- 
lish reviewer  once  said,  —  that  a  lady's  facts  have  as 
much  poetry  in  them  as  Tom  Moore's  lyrics.  Of 
course  poetry  is  always  agreeable,  even  though  of  no 
statistical  value." 

"  I  see  no  poetry  in  my  facts,"  said  Mrs.  Crowfield. 
"  Is  not  slavery  forever  abolished,  by  the  confession 
of  its  best  friends,  —  even  of  those  who  declare  its 
abolition  a  misfortune,  and  themselves  ruined  in 
consequence  ? " 

"I  confess,  my  dear  madam,  that  we  have  suc- 
ceeded as  we  human  creatures  commonly  do,  in  sup- 
posing that  we  have  destroyed  an  evil,  when  we  have 
only  changed  its  name.  We  have  contrived  to  with- 
draw from  the  slave  just  that  fiction  of  property 


68  The  Chimney-Comer. 

relation  which  made  it  for  the  interest  of  some  one  to 
care  for  him  a  little,  however  imperfectly  ;  and  having 
destroyed  that,  we  turn  him  out  defenceless  to  shift 
for  himself  in  a  community  every  member  of  which  is 
imbittered  against  him.  The  whole  South  resounds 
with  the  outcries  of  slaves  suffering  the  vindictive 
wrath  of  former  masters ;  laws  are  being  passed  hunt- 
ing them  out  of  this  State  and  out  of  that ;  the 
animosity  of  race  —  at  all  times  the  most  bitter  and 
unreasonable  of  animosities  —  is  being  aroused  all 
over  the  land.  And  the  Free  States  take  the  lead  in 
injustice  to  them.  Witness  a  late  vote  of  Connecti- 
cut on  the  suffrage  question.  The  efforts  of  govern- 
ment to  protect  the  rights  of  these  poor  defenceless 
creatures  are  about  as  energetic  as  such  efforts  always 
have  been  and  always  will  be  while  human  nature 
remains  what  it  is.  For  a  while  the  obvious  rights  of 
the  weaker  party  will  be  confessed,  with  some  show 
of  consideration,  in  public  speeches ;  they  will  be 
paraded  by  philanthropic  sentimentalists,  to  give 
point  to  their  eloquence ;  they  will  be  here  and  there 
sustained  in  governmental  measures,  when  there  is  no 
strong  temptation  to  the  contrary,  and  nothing  better 
to  be  done  ;  but  the  moment  that  political  combina- 
tions begin  to  be  formed,  all  the  rights  and  interests 
of  this  helpless  people  will  be  bandied  about  as  so 
many  make-weights  in  the  political  scale.  Any 


A  Family-Talk  on  Reconstruction.         69 

troublesome  lion  will  have  a  negro  thrown  to  him  to 
keep  him  quiet.  All  their  hopes  will  be  dashed  to  the 
ground  by  the  imperious  Southern  white,  no  longer 
feeling  for  them  even  the  interest  of  a  master,  and 
regarding  them  with  a  mixture  of  hatred  and  loathing 
as  the  cause  of  all  his  reverses.  Then  if,  driven  to 
despair,  they  seek  to  defend  themselves  by  force,  they 
will  be  crushed  by  the  power  of  the  government, 
and  ground  to  powder,  as  the  weak  have  always  been 
under  the  heel  of  the  strong. 

"  So  much  for  our  abolition  of  slavery.  As  to  our 
material  prosperity,  it  consists  of  an  inflated  paper 
currency,  an  immense  debt,  a  giddy,  foolhardy  spirit 
of  speculation  and  stock-gambling,  and  a  perfect  furor 
of  extravagance,  which  is  driving  everybody  to  live 
beyond  his  means,  and  casting  contempt  on  the  re- 
publican virtues  of  simplicity  and  economy. 

"As  to  advancement  in  morals,  there  never  was 
so  much  intemperance  in  our  people  before,  and  the 
papers  are  full  of  accounts  of  frauds,  defalcations, 
forgeries,  robberies,  assassinations,  and  arsons. 
Against  this  tide  of  corruption  the  various  organized 
denominations  of  religion  do  nothing  effectual.  They 
are  an  army  shut  up  within  their  own  intrenchments, 
holding  their  own  with  difficulty,  and  in  no- situation 
to  turn  back  the  furious  assaults  of  the  enemy." 

"  In  short,"  said  Jennie,  "  according  to  your  show- 


70  The  Chimney- Corner. 

ing,  the  whole  country  is  going  to  destruction.  Now, 
if  things  really  are  so  bad,  if  you  really  believe  all 
you  have  been  saying,  you  ought  not  to  be  sitting 
drinking  your  tea  as  you  are  now,  or  to  have  spent  the 
afternoon  playing  croquet  with  us  girls  ;  you  ought  to 
gird  yourself  with  sackcloth,  and  go  up  and  down  the 
land,  raising  the  alarm,  and  saying,  '  Yet  forty  days 
and  Nineveh  shall  be  overthrown.'  " 

"Well,"  said  Theophilus,  while  a  covert  smile 
played  about  his  lips,  "  you  know  the  saying,  '  Let  us 
eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow,'  etc.  Things  are  not  yet 
gone  to  destruction,  only  going,  —  and  why  not  have  a 
good  time  on  deck  before  the  ship  goes  to  pieces  ? 
Your  chimney-corner  is  a  tranquil  island  in  the  ocean 
of  trouble,  and  your  muffins  are  absolutely  perfect. 
I  '11  take  another,  if  you  '11  please  to  pass  them." 

"  I  Ve  a  great  mind  not  to  pass  them,"  said  Jennie. 
"  Are  you  in  earnest  in  what  you  are  saying  ?  or  are 
you  only  saying  it  for  sensation  ?  How  can  people 
believe  such  things  and  be  comfortable  ?  ./could  not. 
If  I  believed  all  you  have  been  saying  I  could  not 
sleep  nights,  —  I  should  be  perfectly  miserable  ;  and 
you  cannot  really  believe  all  this,  or  you  would  be." 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  Crowfield,  "  our  friend's 
picture  is  the  truth  painted  with  all  its  shadows  and 
none  of  its  lights.  All  the  dangers  he  speaks  of  are 
real  and  great,  but  he  omits  the  counterbalancing 


A  Family-Talk  on  Reconstruction.         71 

good.  Let  me  speak  now.  There  never  has  been  a 
time  in  our  history  when  so  many  honest  and  just  men 
held  power  in  our  land  as  now,  —  never  a  government 
before  in  which  the  public  councils  recognized  with 
more  respect  the  just  and  the  right.  There  never  was 
an  instance  of  a  powerful  government  showing  more 
tenderness  in  the  protection  of  a  weak  and  defenceless 
race  than  ours  has  shown  in  the  care  of  the  freedmen 
hitherto.  There  never  was  a  case  in  which  the  people 
of  a  country  were  more  willing  to  give  money  and 
time  and  disinterested  labor  to  raise  and  educate 
those  who  have  thus  been  thrown  on  their  care.  Con- 
sidering that  we  have  had  a  great,  harassing,  and 
expensive  war  on  our  hands,  I  think  the  amount  done 
by  government  and  individuals  for  the  freedmen 
unequalled  in  the  history  of  nations ;  and  I  do  not 
know  why  it  should  be  predicted  from  this  past  fact, 
that,  in  the  future,  both  government  and  people  are 
about  to  throw  them  to  the  lions,  as  Mr.  Theophilus 
supposes.  Let  us  wait,  at  least,  and  see.  So  long  as 
government  maintains  a  freedmen's  bureau,  adminis- 
tered by  men  of  such  high  moral  character,  we  must 
think,  at  all  events,  that  there  are  strong  indications 
in  the  right  direction.  Just  think  of  the  immense 
advance  of  public  opinion  within  four  years,  and  of 
the  grand  successive  steps  of  this  advance,  —  Emanci- 
pation in  the  District  of  Columbia,  the  Repeal  of  the 


72  The  Chimncy-Conier, 

Fugitive  Slave  Law,  the  General  Emancipation  Act, 
the  Amendment  of  the  Constitution.  All  these  do 
not  look  as  if  the  black  were  about  to  be  ground  to 
powder  beneath  the  heel  of  the  white.  If  the  negroes 
are  oppressed  in  the  South,  they  can  emigrate ;  no 
laws  hold  them  ;  active,  industrious  laborers  will  soon 
find  openings  in  any  part  of  the  Union." 

"  No,"  said  Theophilus,  "  there  will  be  black  laws 
like  those  of  Illinois  and  Tennessee,  there  will  be 
turbulent  uprisings  of  the  Irish,  excited  by  political 
demagogues,  that  will  bar  them  out  of  Northern 
States.  Besides,  as  a  class,  they  will  be  idle  and 
worthless.  It  will  not  be  their  fault,  but  it  will  be  the 
result  of  their  slave  education.  All  their  past  obser- 
vation of  their  masters  has  taught  them  that  liberty 
means  licensed  laziness,  that  work  means  degradation, 
—  and  therefore  they  will  loathe  work,  and  cherish 
laziness  as  the  sign  of  liberty.  '  Am  not  I  free  ? 
Have  I  not  as  good  a  right  to  do  nothing  as  you  ? ' 
will  be  the  cry. 

"  Already  the  lazy  whites,  who  never  lifted  a  hand 
in  any  useful  employment,  begin  to  raise  the  cry  that 
'  niggers  won't  work ' ;  and  I  suspect  the  cry  may  not 
be  without  reason.  Industrious  citizens  can  never  be 
made  in  a  community  where  the  higher  class  think 
useful  labor  a  disgrace.  The  whites  will  oppose  the 
negro  in  every  effort  to  rise ;  they  will  debar  him  of 


A  Family-Talk  on  Reconstruction.         73 

every  civil  and  social  right;  they  will  set  him  the 
worst  possible  example,  as  they  have  been  doing  for 
hundreds  of  years ;  and  then  they  will  hound  and  hiss 
at  him  for  being  what  they  made  him.  This  is  the 
old  track  of  the  world,  —  the  good,  broad,  reputable 
road  on  which  all  aristocracies  and  privileged  classes 
have  been  always  travelling ;  and  it 's  not  likely  that 
we  shall  have  much  of  a  secession  from  it.  The  Mil- 
lennium is  n't  so  near  us  as  that,  by  a  great  deal." 

"  It 's  all  very  well  arguing  from  human  selfishness 
and  human  sin  in  that  way,"  said  I ;  "  but  you  can't 
take  up  a  newspaper  that  does  n't  contain  abundant 
facts  to  the  contrary.  Here,  now,"  —  and  I  turned  to 
the  Tribune,  — "  is  one  item  that  fell  under  my  eye 
accidentally,  as  you  were  speaking  :  — 

" '  The  Superintendent  of  Freedmen's  Affairs  in 
Louisiana,  in  making  up  his  last  Annual  Report,  says 
he  has  1,952  blacks  settled  temporarily  on  9,650 
acres  of  land,  who  last  year  raised  crops  to  the  value 
of  $  175,000,  and  that  he  had  but  few  worthless  blacks 
under  his  care  ;  and  that,  as  a  class,  the  blacks  have 
fewer  vagrants  than  can  be  found  among  any  other 
class  of  persons.' 

"Such  testimonies  gem  the  newspapers  like  stars." 

"  Newspapers  of  your  way  of  thinking,  very  likely," 
said  Theophilus ;  "  but  if  it  comes  to  statistics,  I  can 
bring  counter-statements,  numerous  and  dire,  from 
4 


74  The  Chimncy-Corner. 

scores  of  Southern  papers,  of  vagrancy,  laziness,  im- 
providence, and  wretchedness." 

"  Probably  both  are  true,"  said  I,  "  according  to  the 
greater  or  less  care  which  has  been  taken  of  the  blacks 
in  different  regions.  Left  to  themselves,  they  tend 
downward,  pressed  down  by  the  whole  weight  of  semi- 
barbarous  white  society  ;  but  when  the  free  North 
protects  and  guides,  the  results  are  as  you  see." 

"  And  do  you  think  the  free  North  has  salt  enough 
in  it  to  save  this  whole  Southern  mass  from  corrup- 
tion ?  I  wish  I  could  think  so  ;  but  all  I  can  see  in 
the  free  North  at  present  is  a  raging,  tearing,  head- 
long chase  after  money.  Now  money  is  of  significance 
only  as  it  gives  people  the  power  of  expressing  their 
ideal  of  life.  And  what  does  this  ideal  prove  to  be 
among  us?  Is  it  not  to  ape  all  the  splendors  and 
vices  of  old  aristocratic  society  ?  Is  it  not  to  be  able 
to  live  in  idleness,  without  useful  employment,  a  life 
of  glitter  and  flutter  and  show  ?  What  do  our  New 
York  dames  of  fashion  seek  after  ?  To  avoid  family 
care,  to  find  servants  at  any  price  who  will  relieve 
them  of  home  responsibilities,  and  take  charge  of 
their  houses  and  children  while  they  shine  at  ball  and 
opera,  and  drive  in  the  park.  And  the  servants  who 
learn  of  these  mistresses,  —  what  do  they  seek  after  ? 
They  seek  also  to  get  rid  of  care,  to  live  as  nearly  as 
possible  without  work,  to  dress  and  shine  in  their 


A  Family-Talk  on  Reconstruction.         75 

secondary  sphere,  as  the  mistresses  do  in  the  primary 
one.  High  wages  with  little  work  and  plenty  of  com- 
pany express  Biddy's  ideal  of  life,  which  is  a  little 
more  respectable  than  that  of  her  mistress,  who  wants 
high  wages  with  no  work.  The  house  and  the  chil- 
dren are  not  Biddy's  ;  and  why  should  she  care  more 
for  their  well-being  than  the  mistress  and  the  mother  ? 
"  Hence  come  wranglings  and  moanings.  Biddy 
uses  a  chest  of  tea  in  three  months,  and  the  amount 
of  the  butcher's  bill  is  fabulous  ;  Jane  gives  the  baby 
laudanum  to  quiet  it,  while  she  slips  out  to  her  par- 
ties ;  and  the  upper  classes  are  shocked  at  the  demor- 
alized state  of  the  Irish,  their  utter  want  of  faithful- 
ness and  moral  principle !  How  dreadful  that  there 
are  no  people  who  enjoy  the  self-denials  and  the  cares 
which  they  dislike,  that  there  are  no  people  who  re- 
joice in  carrying  that  burden  of  duties  which  they  do 
not  wish  to  touch  with  one  of  their  fingers !  The 
outcry  about  the  badness  of  servants  means  just  this  : 
that  everybody  is  tired  of  self-helpfulness,  —  the  ser- 
vants as  thoroughly  as  the  masters  and  mistresses. 
All  want  the  cream  of  life,  without  even  the  trouble 
of  skimming;  and  the  great  fight  now  is,  who  shall 
drink  the  skim-milk,  which  nobody  wants.  Work,  — 
honorable  toil,  —  manly,  womanly  endeavor,  — is  just 
what  nobody  likes ;  and  this  is  as  much  a  fact  in  the 
free  North  as  in  the  slave  South. 


76  The  Chimney-Corner. 

"  What  are  all  the  young  girls  looking  for  in  mar- 
riage ?  Some  man  with  money  enough  to  save  them 
from  taking  any  care  or  having  any  trouble  in  domes- 
tic life,  enabling  them,  like  the  lilies  of  the  field,  to 
rival  Solomon  in  all  his  glory,  while  they  toil  not, 
neither  do  they  spin ;  and  when  they  find  that  even 
money  cannot  purchase  freedom  from  care  in  family 
life,  because  their  servants  are  exactly  of  the  same 
mind  with  themselves,  and  hate  to  do  their  duties  as 
cordially  as  they  themselves  do,  then  are  they  in 
anguish  of  spirit,  and  wish  for  slavery,  or  aristocracy, 
or  anything  that  would  give  them  power  over  the 
lower  classes." 

"  But  surely,  Mr.  Theophilus,"  said  Jennie,  "  there 
is  no  sin  in  disliking  trouble,  and  wanting  to  live  easily 
and  have  a  good  time  in  one's  life,  —  it 's  so  very 
natural." 

"  No  sin,  my  dear,  I  admit ;  but  there  is  a  certain 
amount  of  work  and  trouble  that  somebody  must  take 
to  carry  on  the  family  and  the  world ;  and  the  mis- 
chief is,  that  all  are  agreed  in  wanting  to  get  rid  of  it. 
Human  nature  is  above  all  things  lazy.  I  am  lazy  my- 
self. Everybody  is.  The  whole  struggle  of  society  is 
as  to  who  shall  eat  the  hard  bread-and-cheese  of  labor, 
which  must  be  eaten  by  somebody.  Nobody  wants  it, 
—  neither  you  in  the  parlor,  nor  Biddy  in  the  kitchen. 

" '  The  mass  ought  to  labor,  and  we  lie  on  sofas/  is 


A  Family-Talk  on  Reconstruction.         77 

a  sentence  that  would  unite  more  subscribers  than 
any  confession  of  faith  that  ever  was  presented, 
whether  religious  or  political ;  and  its  subscribers 
would  be  as  numerous  and  sincere  in  the  Free  States 
as  in  the  Slave  States,  or  I  am  much  mistaken  in  my 
judgment.  The  negroes  are  men  and  women,  like 
any  of  the  rest  of  us,  and  particularly  apt  in  the  imi- 
tation of  the  ways  and  ideas  current  in  good  society ; 
aftd  consequently  to  learn  to  play  on  the  piano,  and 
to  have  nothing  in  particular  to  do,  will  be  the  goal  of 
aspiration  among  colored  girls  and  women,  and  to  do 
housework  will  seem  to  them  intolerable  drudgery, 
simply  because  it  is  so  among  the  fair  models  to  whom 
they  look  up  in  humble  admiration.  You  see,  my 
dear,  what  it  is  to  live  in  a  democracy.  It  deprives  us 
of  the  vantage-ground  on  which  we  cultivated  people 
can  stand  and  say  to  our  neighbor,  — '  The  cream  is 
for  me,  and  the  skim-milk  for  you  ;  the  white  bread 
for  me,  and  the  brown  for  you.  I  am  born  to  amuse 
myself  and  have  a  good  time,  and  you  are  born  to  do 
everything  that  is  tiresome  and  disagreeable  to  me.' 
The  '  My  Lady  Ludlows  '  of  the  Old  World  can  stand 
on  their  platform  and  lecture  the  lower  classes  from 
the  Church  Catechism,  to  '  order  themselves  lowly  and 
reverently  to  all  their  betters ' ;  and  they  can  base 
their  exhortations  on  the  old  established  law  of  society 
by  which  some  are  born  to  inherit  the  earth,  and  live 


78  The.  Chimney-Comer. 

a  life  of  ease  and  pleasure,  and  others  to  toil  without 
pleasure  or  amusement,  for  their  support  and  ag- 
grandizement. An  aristocracy,  as  I  take  it,  is  a 
combination  of  human  beings  to  divide  life  into  two 
parts,  one  of  which  shall  comprise  all  social  and 
moral  advantages,  refinement,  elegance,  leisure,  ease, 
pleasure,  and  amusement,  —  and  the  other,  incessant 
toil,  with  the  absence  of  every  privilege  and  blessing 
of  human  existence.  Life  thus  divided,  we  aristocrats 
keep  the  good  for  ourselves  and  our  children,  and 
distribute  the  evil  as  the  lot  of  the  general  mass  of 
mankind.  The  desire  to  monopolize  and  to  dominate 
is  the  most  rooted  form  of  human  selfishness;  it  is  the 
hydra  with  many  heads,  and,  cut  off  in  one  place,  it 
puts  out  in  another. 

"Nominally,  the  great  aristocratic  arrangement  of 
American  society  has  just  been  destroyed  ;  but  really, 
I  take  it,  the  essential  animus  of  the  slave  system 
still  exists,  and  pervades  the  community,  North  as 
well  as  South.  Everybody  is  wanting  to  get  the  work 
done  by  somebody  else,  and  to  take  the  money  him- 
self; the  grinding  between  employers  and  employed 
is  going  on  all  the  time,  and  the  field  of  controversy 
has  only  been  made  wider  by  bringing  in  a  whole  new 
class  of  laborers.  The  Irish  have  now  the  opportu- 
nity to  sustain  their  aristocracy  over  the  negro.  Shall 
they  not  have  somebody  to  look  down  upon  ? 


A  Family-Talk  on  Reconstruction.         79 


"  All  through  free  society,  employers  and  employed 
are  at  incessant  feud  ;  and  the  more  free  and  enlight- 
ened the  society,  the  more  bitter  the  feud.  The 
standing  complaint  of  life  in  America  is  the  badness 
of  servants  ;  and  England,  which  always  follows  at  a 
certain  rate  behind  us  in  our  social  movements,  is 
beginning  to  raise  very  loudly  the  same  complaint. 
The  condition  of  service  has  been  thought  worthy  of 
public  attention  in  some  of  the  leading  British  prints  ; 
and  Ruskin,  in  a  summing-up  article,  speaks  of  it  as 
deep  ulcer  in  society,  —  a  thing  hopeless  of 
zmedy." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Theophilus,"  said  my  wife,  "  I  can- 
)t  imagine  whither   you  are   rambling,   or   to   what 
irpose  you  are  getting  up  these   horrible   shadows, 
fou  talk  of  the  world  as  if  there  were  no  God  in  it, 
reitttling  the  selfishness  of  men,  and  educating  it  up 
order  and  justice.     I  do  not  deny  that  there  is  a 
vast  deal  of  truth  in  what  you  say.     Nobody  doubts 
that,   in  general,   human     nature   is   selfish,    callous, 
unfeeling,  willing  to  engross  all  good  to  itself,  and  to 
trample  on  the  rights  of  others.     Nevertheless,  thanks 
God's   teaching  and  fatherly  care,    the  world   has 
worked  along  to  the  point  of  a  great  nation  founded 
on  the   principles   of   strict   equality,   forbidding   all 
monopolies,    aristocracies,    privileged   classes,   by  its 
very  constitution  ;  and  now,  by  God's  wonderful  prov- 


8o  The  Chimney-Comer. 

idence,  this  nation  has  been  brought,  and  forced,  as  it 
were,  to  overturn  and  abolish  the  only  aristocratic 
institution  that  interfered  with  its  free  development. 
Does  not  this  look  as  if  a  Mightier  Power  than  ours 
were  working  in  and  for  us,  supplementing  our  weak- 
ness and  infirmity  ?  and  if  we  believe  that  man  is 
always  ready  to  drop  everything  and  let  it  run  back  to 
evil,  shall  we  not  have  faith  that  God  will  not  drop  the 
noble  work  he  has  so  evidently  taken  in  hand  in  this 
nation  ? " 

"  And  I  want  to  know,"  said  Jennie,  "  why  your 
illustrations  of  selfishness  are  all  drawn  from  the 
female  sex.  Why  do  you  speak  of  girls  that  marry 
for  money,  any  more  than  men  ?  of  mistresses  of  fam- 
ilies that  want  to  be  free  from  household  duties  and 
responsibilities,  rather  than  of  masters  ? " 

"  My  charming  young  lady,"  said  Theophilus,  "  it  is 
a  fact  that  in  America,  except  the  slaveholders,  women 
have  hitherto  been  the  only  aristocracy.  Women  have 
been  the  privileged  class,  —  the  only  one  to  which  our 
rough  democracy  has  always  and  everywhere  given 
the  precedence,  —  and  consequently  the  vices  of 
aristocrats  are  more  developed  in  them  as  a  class  than 
among  men.  The  leading  principle  of  aristocracy, 
which  is  to  take  pay  without  work,  to  live  on  the  toils 
and  earnings  of  others,  is  one  which  obtains  more 
generally  among  women  than  among  men  in  this 


A  Family-Talk  on  Reconstruction.         81 

country.  The  men  of  our  country,  as  a  general  thing, 
even  in  our  uppermost  classes,  always  propose  to 
themselves  some  work  or  business  by  which  they  may 
acquire  a  fortune,  or  enlarge  that  already  made  for 
them  by  their  fathers.  The  women  of  the  same  class 
propose  to  themselves  nothing  but  to  live  at  their 
ease  on  the  money  made  for  them  by  the  labors  of 
fathers  and  husbands.  As  a  consequence,  they  be- 
come enervated  and  indolent,  —  averse  to  any  bracing, 
wholesome  effort,  either  mental  or  physical.  The 
unavoidable  responsibilities  and  cares  of  a  family,  in- 
stead of  being  viewed  by  them  in  the  light  of  a  noble 
life-work,  in  which  they  do  their  part  in  the  general 
labors  of  the  world,  seem  to  them  so  many  injuries 
and  wrongs  ;  they  seek  to  turn  them  upon  servants, 
and  find  servants  unwilling  to  take  them  ;  and  so 
selfish  are  they,  that  I  have  heard  more  than  one  lady 
declare  that  she  did  n't  care  if  it  was  unjust,  she 
should  like  to  have  slaves,  rather  than  be  plagued  with 
servants  who  had  so  much  liberty.  All  the  novels, 
poetry,  and  light  literature  of  the  world,  which  form 
the  general  staple  of  female  reading,  are  based  upon 
aristocratic  institutions,  and  impregnated  with  aristo- 
cratic ideas  ;  and  women  among  us  are  constantly 
aspiring  to  foreign  and  aristocratic  modes  of  life 
rather  than  to  those  of  native,  republican  simplicity. 
How  many  women  are  there,  think  you,  that  would 
4*  .  F 


82  The  Chimney-Conier. 

not  go  in  for  aristocracy  and  aristocratic  prerogatives, 
if  they  were  only  sure  that  they  themselves  should  be 
of  the  privileged  class  ?  To  be  '  My  Lady  Duchess,' 
and  to  have  a  right  by  that  simply  title  to  the  prostrate 
deference  of  all  the  lower  orders  !  How  many  would 
have  firmness  to  vote  against  such  an  establishment 
merely  because  it  was  bad  for  society  ?  Tell  the  fair 
Mrs.  Feathercap,  'In  order  that  you  may  be  a  duchess, 
and  have  everything  a  paradise  of  elegance  and  lux- 
ury around  you  and  your  children,  a  hundred  poor 
families  must  have  no  chance  for  anything  better  than 
black  bread  and  muddy  water  all  their  lives,  a  hun- 
dred poor  men  must  work  all  their  lives  on  such  wages 
that  a  fortnight's  sickness  will  send  their  families  to 
the  almshouse,  and  that  no  amount  of  honesty  and 
forethought  can  lay  up  any  provision  for  old  age.' " 

"  Come  now,  sir,"  said  Jennie,  "  don't  tell  me  that 
there  are  any  girls  or  women  so  mean  and  selfish  as 
to  want  aristocracy  or  rank  so  purchased  !  You  are 
too  bad,  Mr.  Theophilus !  " 

"  Perhaps  they  might  not,  were  it  stated  in  just 
these  terms  ;  yet  I  think,  if  the  question  of  the  estab- 
lishment of  an  order  of  aristocracy  among  us  were  put 
to  vote,  we  should  find  more  women  than  men  who 
would  go  for  it ;  and  they  would  flout  at  the  conse- 
quences to  society  with  the  lively  wit  and  the  musical 
laugh  which  make  feminine  selfishness  so  genteel  and 
agreeable. 


A  Family-Talk  on  Reconstruction.         83 

"  No !  It  is  a  fact,  that,  in  America,  the  women, 
in  the  wealthy  classes,  are  like  the  noblemen  of  aris- 
tocracies, and  the  men  are  the  workers.  And  in  all 
this  outcry  that  has  been  raised  about  women's  wages 
being  inferior  to  those  of  men  there  is  one  thing  over- 
looked, —  and  that  is,  that  women's  work  is  generally 
inferior  to  that  of  men,  because  in  every  rank  they  are 
the  pets  of  society,  and  are  excused  from  the  laborious 
drill  and  training  by  which  men  are  fitted  for  their 
callings.  Our  fair  friends  come  in  generally  by  some 
royal  road  to  knowledge,  which  saves  them  the  dire 
necessity  of  real  work,  —  a  sort  of  feminine  hop-skip- 
and-jump  into  science  or  mechanical  skill,  —  nothing 
like  the  uncompromising  hard  labor  to  which  the  boy 
is  put  who  would  be  a  mechanic  or  farmer,  a  lawyer 
or  physician. 

"  I  admit  freely  that  we  men  are  to  blame  for  most 
of  the  faults  of  our  fair  nobility.  There  is  plenty  of 
heroism,  abundance  of  energy,  and  love  of  noble 
endeavor  lying  dormant  in  these  sheltered  and  petted 
daughters  of  the  better  classes  ;  but  we  keep  it  down 
and  smother  it.  Fathers  and  brothers  think  it  dis- 
creditable to  themselves  not  to  give  their  daughters 
and  sisters  the  means  of  living  in  idleness  ;  and  any 
adventurous  fair  one,  who  seeks  to  end  the  ennui  of 
utter  aimlessness  by  applying  herself  to  some  occupa- 
tion whereby  she  may  earn  her  own  living,  infallibly 


84  The  Chimney-Corner. 

draws  down  on  her  the  comments  of  her  whole  circle  : 
—  'Keeping  school,  is  she?  Isn't  her  father  rich 
enough  to  support  her?  What  could  possess  her?'" 

"  I  am  glad,  my  dear  Sir  Oracle,  that  you  are 
beginning  to  recollect  yourself  and  temper  your  severi- 
ties on  our  sex,"  said  my  wife.  "  As  usual,  there  is 
much  truth  lying  about  loosely  in  the  vicinity  of  your 
assertions ;  but  they  are  as  far  from  being  in  them- 
selves the  truth  as  would  be  their  exact  opposites. 

"  The  class  of  American  women  who  travel,  live 
abroad,  and  represent  our  country  to  the  foreign  eye, 
have  acquired  the  reputation  of  being  Sybarites  in 
luxury  and  extravagance,  and  there  is  much  in  the 
modes  of  life  that  are  creeping  into  our  richer  circles 
to  justify  this. 

"  Miss  Murray,  ex-maid-of-honor  to  the  Queen  of 
England,  among  other  impressions  which  she  received 
from  an  extended  tour  through  our  country,  states  it 
as  her  conviction  that  young  American  girls  of  the 
better  classes  are  less  helpful  in  nursing  the  sick  and 
in  the  general  duties  of  family  life  than  the  daughters 
of  the  aristocracy  of  England  ;  and  I  am  inclined  to 
believe  it,  because  even  the  Queen  has  taken  special 
pains  to  cultivate  habits  of  energy  and  self-helpfulness 
in  her  children.  One  of  the  toys  of  the  Princess 
Royal  was  said  to  be  a  cottage  of  her  own,  furnished 
with  every  accommodation  for  cooking  and  house- 


A  Family-Talk  on  Reconstruction.         85 

keeping,  where  she  from  time  to  time  enacted  the  part 
of  housekeeper,  making  bread  and  biscuit,  boiling 
potatoes  which  she  herself  had  gathered  from  her  own 
garden-patch,  and  inviting  her  royal  parents  to  meals 
of  her  own  preparing  ;  and  report  says,  that  the  digni- 
taries of  the  German  court  have  been  horrified  at  the 
energetic  determination  of  the  young  royal  housekeeper 
to  overlook  her  own  linen-closets  and  attend  to  her 
own  affairs.  But  as  an  offset  to  what  I  have  been  say- 
ing, it  must  be  admitted  that  America  is  a  country  where 
a  young  woman  can  be  self-supporting  without  forfeit- 
ing her  place  in  society.  All  our  New  England  and 
Western  towns  show  us  female  teachers  who  are  as 
well  received  and  as  much  'caressed  in  society,  and  as 
often  contract  advantageous  marriages,  as  any  women 
whatever ;  and  the  productive  labor  of  American 
women,  in  various  arts,  trades,  and  callings,  would  be 
found,  I  think,  not  inferior  to  that  of  any  women  in 
the  world. 

"  Furthermore,  the  history  of  the  late  war  has  shown 
them  capable  of  every  form  of  heroic  endeavor.  We 
have  had  hundreds  of  Florence  Nightingales,  and  an 
amount  of  real  hard  work  has  been  done  by  female 
hands  not  inferior  to  that  performed  by  men  in  the 
camp  and  field,  and  enough  to  make  sure  that  Ameri- 
can womanhood  is  not  yet  so  enervated  as  seriously 
to  interfere  with  the  prospects  of  free  republican 
society." 


86  The  Chimney-Corner. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Jennie,  "  what  it  is  in  our  country 
that  spoils  the  working-classes  that  come  into  it. 
They  say  that  the  emigrants,  as  they  land  here,  are 
often  simple-hearted  people,  willing  to  work,  accus- 
tomed to  early  hours  and  plain  living,  decorous  and 
respectful  in  their  manners.  It  would  seem  as  if 
aristocratic  drilling  had  done  them  good.  In  a  few 
months  they  become  brawling,  impertinent,  grasping, 
want  high  wages,  and  are  very  unwilling  to  work.  I 
went  to  several  intelligence-offices  the  other  day  to 
look  for  a  girl  for  Marianne,  and  I  thought,  by  the 
way  the  candidates  catechized  the  ladies,  and  the  airs 
they  took  upon  them,  that  they  considered  themselves 
the  future  mistresses  interrogating  their  subordinates. 

" '  Does  ye  expect  me  to  do  the  washin'  with  the 
cookin'  ? ' 

"'Yes.' 

"  '  Thin  I  '11  niver  go  to  that  place  ! ' 

" '  And  does  ye  expect  me  to  get  the  early  breakfast 
for  yer  husband  to  be  off  in  the  train  every  mornin'  ? ' 

"  '  Yes.' 

"  '  I  niver  does  that,  —  that  ought  to  be  a  second 
girl's  work.' 

"  '  How  many  servants  does  ye  keep,  ma'am  ? ' 

"  '  Two.' 

"  '  I  niver  lives  with  people  that  keeps  but  two  ser- 
vants.' 


A  Family-Talk  on  Reconstruction.         87 

"  '  How  many  has  ye  in  yer  family  ?' 

" '  Seven.' 

" '  That 's  too  large  a  family.  Has  ye  much  com- 
pany ? ' 

"  '  Yes,  we  have  company  occasionally.' 

" '  Thin  I  can't  come  to  ye ;  it  '11  be  too  hand  a 
place.' 

"  In  fact,  the  thing  they  were  all  in  quest  of  seemed 
to  be  a  very  small  family,  with  very  high  wages,  and 
many  perquisites  and  privileges. 

"  This  is  the  kind  of  work-people  our  manners  and 
institutions  make  of  people  that  come  over  here.  I 
remember  one  day  seeing  a  coachman  touch  his  cap 
to  his  mistress  when  she  spoke  to  him,  as  is  the  way 
in  Europe,  and  hearing  one  or  two  others  saying 
among  themselves,  — 

"'That  chap's  a  greenie ;  he'll  get  over  that 
soon.' " 

"  All  these  things  show,"  said  I,  "that  the  staff  of 
power  has  passed  from  the  hands  of  gentility  into 
those  of  labor.  We  may  think  the  working-classes 
soi/.-Mvdfat  unseemly  in  their  assertion  of  self-impor- 
tant, ;  but,  after  all,  are  they,  considering  their  infe- 
r'ci  advantages  of  breeding,  any  more  overbearing  and 
>vipertinent  than  the  upper  classes  have  always  been 
fo  them  in  all  ages  and  countries  ? 

"  When  Biddy  looks.long,  hedges  in  her  work  with 


88  The  Chimney-Corner. 

many  conditions,  and  is  careful  to  get  the  most  she 
can  for  the  least  labor,  is  she,  after  all,  doing  any  more 
than  you  or  I  or  all  the  rest  of  the  world  ?  I  myself 
will  not  write  articles  for  five  dollars  a  page,  when 
there  are  those  who  will  give  me  fifteen.  I  would  not 
do  double  duty  as  an  editor  on  a  salary  of  seven 
thousand,  when  I  could  get  ten  thousand  for  less 
work. 

"  Biddy  and  her  mistress  are  two  human  beings, 
with  the  same  human  wants.  Both  want  to  escape 
trouble,  to  make  their  life  comfortable  and  easy,  with 
the  least  outlay  of  expense.  Biddy's  capital  is  her 
muscles  and  sinews  ;  and  she  wants  to  get  as  many 
greenbacks  in  exchange  for  them  as  her  wit  and 
shrewdness  will  enable  her  to  do.  You  feel,  when 
you  bargain  with  her,  that  she  is  nothing  to  you, 
except  so  far  as  her  strength  and  knowledge  may  save 
you  care  and  trouble  ;  and  she  feels  that  you  are 
nothing  to  her,  except  so  far  as  she  can  get  your 
money  for  her  work.  The  free-and-easy  airs,  of  those 
seeking  employment  show  one  thing,  —  that  the 
country  in  general  is  prosperous,  and  that  openings 
for  profitable  employment  are  so  numerous  that  it  is 
not  thought  necessary  to  try  to  conciliate  favor.  If 
the  community  were  at  starvation-point,  and  the  loss 
of  a  situation  brought  fear  of  the  almshouse,  the- 
laboring-class  would  be  more  subservient.  As  it  is, 


A  Family-Talk  on  Reconstruction.         89 

there  is  a  little  spice  of  the  bitterness  of  a  past  age  of 
servitude  in  their  present  attitude,  —  a  bristling,  self- 
defensive  impertinence,  which  will  gradually  smooth 
away  as  society  learns  to  accommodate  itself  to  the 
new  order  of  things." 

"  Well,  but,  papa,"  said  Jennie,  "  don't  you  think  all 
this  a  very  severe  test,  if  applied  to  us  women  particu- 
larly, more  than  to  the  men  ?  Mr.  Theophilus  seems 
to  think  women  are  aristocrats,  and  go  for  enslaving 
the  lower  classes  out  of  mere  selfishness ;  but  I  say 
that  we  are  a  great  deal  more  strongly  tempted  than 
men,  because  all  these  annoyances  and  trials  of  do- 
mestic life  come  upon  us.  It  is  very  insidious,  the 
aristocratic  argument,  as  it  appeals  to  us  ;  there  seems 
much  to  be  said  in  its  favor.  It  does  appear  to  me 
that  it  is  better  to  have  servants  and  work-people 
tidy,  industrious,  respectful,  and  decorous,  as  they  are 
in  Europe,  than  domineering,  impertinent,  and  negli- 
gent, as  they  are  here, — and  it  seems  that  there  is 
something  in  our  institutions  that  produces  these  dis- 
agreeable traits  ;  and  I  presume  that  the  negroes  will 
eventually  be  travelling  the  same  road  as  the  Irish, 
and  from  the  same  influences. 

"  When  people  see  all  these  things,  and  feel  all  the 
inconveniences  of  them,  I  don't  wonder  that  they  are 
tempted  not  to  like  democracy,  and  to  feel  as  if 
aristocratic  institutions  made  a  more  agreeable  state 


QO  The  Chimney-Corner. 

of  society.  It  is  not  such  a  blank,  bald,  downright 
piece  of  brutal  selfishness  as  Mr.  Theophilus  there 
seems  to  suppose,  'for  us  to  wish  there  were  some 
quiet,  submissive,  laborious  lower  class,  who  would  be 
content  to  work  for  kind  treatment  and  moderate 
wages." 

"  But,  my  little  dear,"  said  I,  "  the  matter  is  not  left 
to  our  choice.  Wish  it  or  not  wish  it,  it 's  what  we 
evidently  can't  have.  The  day  for  that  thing  is  past. 
The  power  is  passing  out  of  the  hands  of  the  culti- 
vated few  into  those  of  the  strong,  laborious  many. 
Numbers  is  the  king  of  our  era  ;  and  he  will  reign 
over  us,  whether  we  will  hear  or  whether  we  will  for- 
bear. The  signers  for  an  obedient  lower  class  and 
the  mourners  for  slavery  may  get  ready  their  crape, 
and  have  their  pocket-handkerchiefs  bordered  with 
black;  for  they  have  much  weeping  to  do,  and  for 
many  years  to  come.  The  good  old  feudal  times, 
when  two  thirds  of  the  population  thought  themselves 
born  only  for  the  honor,  glory,  and  profit  of  the  other 
third,  are  gone,  with  all  their  beautiful  devotions,  all 
their  trappings  of  song  and  story.  In  the  land  where 
such  institutions  were  most  deeply  rooted  and  most 
firmly  established,  they  are  assailed  every  day  by  hard 
hands  and  stout  hearts ;  and  their  position  resembles 
that  of  some  of  the  picturesque  ruins  of  Italy,  which 
are  constantly  being  torn  away  to  build  prosaic  mod- 
ern shops  and  houses. 


A  Family -Talk  on  Reconstruction,         91 

"  This  great  democratic  movement  is  coming  down 
into  modern  society  with  a  march  as  irresistible  as  the 
glacier  moves  down  from  the  mountains.  Its  front  is 
in  America,  —  and  behind  are  England,  France,  Italy, 
Prussia,  and  the  Mohammedan  countries.  In  all,  the 
rights  of  the  laboring  masses  are  a  living  force,  bear- 
ing slowly  and  inevitably  all  before  it.  Our  war  has 
been  a  marshalling  of  its  armies,  commanded  by  a 
hard-handed,  inspired  man  of  the  working-class.  An 
intelligent  American,  recently  resident  in  Egypt,  says 
it  was  affecting  to  notice  the  interest  with  which  the 
working -classes  there  were  looking  upon  our  late 
struggle  in  America,  and  the  earnestness  of  their 
wishes  for  the  triumph  of  the  Union.  '  It  is  our 
cause,  it  is  for  us,'  they  said,  as  said  the  cotton-spin- 
ners of  England  and  the  silk-weavers  of  Lyons.  The 
forces  of  this  mighty  movement  are  still  directed  by  a 
man  from  the  lower  orders,  the  sworn  foe  of  exclusive 
privileges  and  landed  aristocracies.  If  Andy  Johnson 
is  consistent  with  himself,  with  the  principles  which 
raised  him  from  a  tailor's  bench  to  the  head  of  a 
mighty  nation,  he  will  see  to  it  that  the  work  that 
Lincoln  began  is 'so  thoroughly  done,  that  every  man 
and  every  woman  in  America,  of  whatever  race  or 
complexion,  shall  have  exactly  equal  rights  before  the 
law,  and  be  free  to  rise  or  fall  according  to  their  indi- 
vidual intelligence,  industry,  and  moral  worth.  So 


92  The  Chimney-Comer. 

long  as  everything  is  not  strictly  in  accordance  with 
our  principles  of  democracy,  so  long  as  there  is  in  any 
part  of  the  country  an  aristocratic  upper  class  who 
despise  labor,  and  a  laboring  lower  class  that  is  de- 
nied equal  political  rights,  so  long  this  grinding  and 
discord  between  the  two  will  never  cease  in  America. 
It  will  make  trouble  not  only  in  the  South,  but  in  the 
North,  —  trouble  between  all  employers  and  em- 
ployed, —  trouble  in  every  branch  and  department  of 
labor,  —  trouble  in  every  parlor  and  every  kitchen. 

"  What  is  it  that  has  driven  every  American  woman 
out  of  domestic  service,  when  domestic  service  is  full 
as  well  paid,  is  easier,  healthier,  and  in  many  cases  far 
more  agreeable,  than  shop  and  factory  work?  It  is, 
more  than  anything  else,  the  influence  of  slavery  in 
the  South,  —  its  insensible  influence  on  the  minds  of 
mistresses,  giving  them  false  ideas  of  what  ought  to 
be  the  position  and  treatment  of  a  female  citizen  in 
domestic  service,  and  its  very  marked  influence  on 
the  minds  of  freedom-loving  Americans,  causing  them 
to  choose  any  position  rather  than  one  which  is  re- 
garded as  assimilating  them  to  slaves.  It  is  difficult 
to  say  what  are  the  very  worst  results  of  a  system  so 
altogether  bad  as  that  of  slavery  ;  but  one  of  the  worst 
is  certainly  the  utter  contempt  it  brings  on  useful 
labor,  and  the  consequent  utter  physical  and  moral 
degradation  of  a  large  body  of  the  whites ;  and  this 


A  Family -Talk  on  Reconstruction.         93 

contempt  of  useful  labor  has  been  constantly  spread- 
ing like  an  infection  from  the  Southern  to  the  North- 
ern States,  particularly  among  women,  who,  as  our 
friend  here  has  truly  said,  are  by  our  worship  and 
exaltation  of  them  made  peculiarly  liable  to  take  the 
malaria  of  aristocratic  society.  Let  anybody  observe 
the  conversation  in  good  society  for  an  hour  or  two, 
and  hear  the  tone  in  which  servant-girls,  seamstresses, 
mechanics,  and  all  who  work  for  their  living,  are 
sometimes  mentioned,  and  he  will  see,  that,  while 
every  one  of  the  speakers  professes  to  regard  useful 
labor  as  respectable,  she  is  yet  deeply  imbued  with 
the  leaven  of  aristocratic  ideas. 

"In  the  South  the  contempt  for  labor  bred  of 
slavery  has  so  permeated  society,  that  we  see  great, 
coarse,  vulgar  lazzaroni  lying  about  in  rags  and  ver- 
min, and  dependent  on  government  rations,  maintain- 
ing, as  their  only  source  of  self-respect,  that  they 
never  have  done  and  never  will  do  a  stroke  of  useful 
work,  in  all  their  lives.  In  the  North  there  are,  I 
believe,  no  men  who  would  make  such  a  boast ;  but  I 
think  there  are  many  women  —  beautiful,  fascinating 
lazzaroni  of  the  parlor  and  boudoir — who  make  their 
boast  of  elegant  helplessness  and  utter  incompetence 
for  any  of  woman's  duties  with  equal  naivete.  The 
Spartans  made  their  slaves  drunk,  to  teach  their  chil- 
dren the  evils  of  intoxication  ;  and  it  seems  to  be  the 


94  The  Chimney-Coimer. 

policy  of  a  large  class  in  the  South  now  to  keep  down 
and  degrade  the  only  working-class  they  have,  for  the 
sake  of  teaching  their  children  to  despise  work. 

"  We  of  the  North,  who  know  the  dignity  of  labor, 
who  know  the  value  of  free  and  equal  institutions, 
who  have  enjoyed  advantages  for  seeing  their  opera- 
tion, ought,  in  true  brotherliness,  to  exercise  the 
power  given  us  by  the  present  position  of  the  people 
of  the  Southern  States,  and  put  things  thoroughly 
right  for  them,  well  knowing,  that,  though  they  may 
not  like  it  at  the  moment,  they  will  like  it  in  the  end, 
and  that  it  will  bring  them  peace,  plenty,  and  settled 
prosperity,  such  as  they  have  long  envied  here  in  the 
North.  It  is  no  kindness  to  an  invalid  brother,  half 
recovered  from  delirium,  to  leave  him  a  knife  to  cut 
his  throat  with,  should  he  be  so  disposed.  We  should 
rather  appeal  from  Philip  drunk  to  Philip  sober,  and 
do  real  kindness,  trusting  to  the  future  for  our  meed 
of  gratitude. 

"Giving  equal  political  rights  to  all  the  inhabitants 
of  the  Southern  States  will  be  their  shortest  way  to 
quiet  and  to  wealth.  It  will  avert  what  is  else  almost 
certain,  —  a  war  of  races  ;  since  all  experience  shows 
that  the  ballot  introduces  the  very  politest  relations 
between  the  higher  and  lower  classes.  If  the  right  be 
restricted,  let  it  be  by  requirements  of  property  and 
education,  applying  to  all  the  population  equally. 


A  Family -Talk  on  Reconstruction.         95 

"  Meanwhile,  we  citizens  and  citizenesses  of  the 
North  should  remember  that  Reconstruction  means 
something  more  than  setting  things  right  in  the  South- 
ern States.  We  have  saved  our  government  and 
institutions,  but  we  have  paid  a  fearful  price  for  their 
salvation ;  and  we  ought  to  prove  now  that  they  are 
worth  the  price.  • 

"The  empty  chair,  never  to  be  filled,  —  the  light 
gone  out  on  its  candlestick,  never  on  earth  to  be 
rekindled,  — gallant  souls  that  have  exhaled  to  heaven 
in  slow  torture  and  starvation,  —  the  precious  blood 
that  haj|  drenched  a  hundred  battle-fields,  —  all  call 
to  us  with  warning  voices,  and  tell  us  not  to  let  such 
sacrifices  be  in  vain.  They  call  on  us  by  our  clear 
understanding  of  the  great  principles  of  democratic 
equality,  for  which  our  martyred  brethren  suffered  and 
died,  to  show  to  all  the  world  that  their  death  was  no 
mean  and  useless  waste,  but  a  glorious  investment  for 
the  future  of  mankind. 

"This  war,  these  sufferings,  these  sacrifices,  ought 
to  make  every  American  man  and  woman  look  on 
himself  and  herself  as  belonging  to  a  royal  priesthood, 
a  peculiar  people.  The  blood  of  our  slain  ought  to 
be  a  gulf,  wide  and  deep  as  the  Atlantic,  dividing 
us  from  the  opinions  and  the  practices  of  countries 
whose  government  and  society  are  founded  on  other 
and  antagonistic  ideas.  Democratic  republicanism 


96  The  Chimney-Corner. 

has  never  yet  been  perfectly  worked  out  either  in  this 
or  any  other  country.  It  is  a  splendid  edifice,  half 
built,  deformed  by  rude  scaffolding,  noisy  with  the 
clink  of  trowels,  blinding  the  eyes  with  the  dust  of 
lime,  and  endangering  our  heads  with  falling  brick. 
We  make  our  way  over  heaps  of  shavings  and  lumber 
to  view  the  stately  apartments',  —  we  endanger  our 
necks  in  climbing  ladders  standing  in  the  place  of 
future  staircases  ;  but  let  us  not  for  all  this  cry  out 
that  the  old  rat-holed  mansions  of  former  ages,  with 
their  mould,  and  moss,  and  cockroaches,  are  better 
than  this  new  palace.  There  is  no.  lime-dust,  no  clink 
of  trowels,  no  rough  scaffolding  there,  to  be  sure,  and 
life  goes  on  very  quietly ;  but  there  is  the  foul  air  of 
slow  and  sure  decay. 

"  Republican  institutions  in  America  are  in  a  tran- 
sition state  ;  they  have  not  yet  separated  themselves 
from  foreign  and  antagonistic  ideas  and  traditions, 
derived  from  old  countries  ;  and  the  labors  necessary 
for  the  upbuilding  of  society  are  not  yet  so  adjusted 
that  there  is  mutual  pleasure  and  comfort  in  the 
relations  of  employer  and  employed.  We  still  incline 
to  class-distinctions  and  aristocracies.  We  incline  to 
the  scheme  of  dividing  the  world's  work  into  two 
orders  :  first,  physical  labor,  which  is  held  to  be  rude 
and  vulgar,  and  the  province  of  a  lower  class ;  and 
second,  brain  labor,  held  to  be  refined  and  aristo- 


A  Family -Talk  on  Reconstruction.         97 

cratic,  and  the  province  of  a  higher  class.  Mean- 
while, the  Creator,  who  is  the  greatest  of  levellers, 
has  given  to  every  human  being  both  a  physical  sys- 
tem, needing  to  be  kept  in  order  by  physical  labor, 
and  an  intellectual  or  brain  power,  needing  to  be  kept 
in  order  by  brain  labor.  Work,  use,  employment,  is 
the  condition  of  health  in  both ;  and  he  who  works 
either  to  the  neglect  of  the  other  lives  but  a  half-life, 
and  is  an  imperfect  human  being. 

"The  aristocracies  of  the  Old  World  claim  that 
their  only  labor  should  be  that  of  the  brain  ;  and  they 
keep  their  physical  system  in  order  by  violent  exer- 
cise, which  is  made  genteel  from  the  fact  only  that  it 
is  not  useful  or  productive.  It  would  be  losing  caste 
to  refresh  the  muscles  by  handling  the  plough  or  the 
axe ;  and  so  foxes  and  hares  must  be  kept  to  be 
hunted,  and  whole  counties  turned  into  preserves,  in 
order  that  the  nobility  and  gentry  may  have  physical 
exercise  in  a  way  befitting  their  station,  —  that  is  to 
say,  in  a  way  that  produces  nothing,  and  does  good 
only  to  themselves. 

"The  model  republican  uses  his  brain  for  the 
highest  purposes  of  brain  work,  and  his  muscles  in 
productive  physical  labor  •  and  useful  labor  he  respects 
above  that  which  is  merely  agreeable. 

"  When  this  equal  respect  for  physical  and  mental 
labor  shall  have  taken  possession  of  every  American 


98  TJie  Chimney-Corner. 

citizen,  there  will  be  no  so-called  laboring  class; 
there  will  no  more  be  a  class  all  muscle  without  brain 
power  to  guide  it,  and  a  class  all  brain  without  mus- 
cular power  to  execute.  The  labors  of  society  will 
be  lighter,  because  each  individual  will  take  his  part 
in  them  ;  they  will  be  performed  better,  because  no 
one  will  be  overburdened. 

"In  those  days,  Miss  Jennie,  it  will  be  an  easier 
matter  to  keep  house,  because,  housework  being  no 
longer  regarded  as  degrading  drudgery,  you  will  find 
a  superior  class  of  women  ready  to  engage  in  it. 

"  Every  young  girl  and  woman,  who  in  her  sphere 
and  by  her  example  shows  that  she  is  not  ashamed 
of  domestic  labor,  and  that  she  considers  the  neces- 
sary work  and  duties  of  family  life  as  dignified  and 
important,  is  helping  to  bring  on  this  good  day. 
Louis  Philippe  once  jestingly  remarked,  — '  I  have 
this  qualification  for  being  a  king  in  these  days,  that 
I  have  blacked  my  own  boots,  and  could  black  them 
again.' 

"  Every  American  ought  to  cultivate,  as  his  pride 
and  birthright,  the  habit  of  self-helpfulness.  Our 
command  of  the  labors  of  good  employes  in  any  de- 
partment is  liable  to  such  interruptions,  that  he  who 
has  blacked  his  own  boots,  and  can  do  it  again,  is,  on 
the  whole,  likely  to  secure  the  most  comfort  in  life. 

"  As  to  that  which  Mr.  Ruskin  pronounces  to  be  a 


A.  Family -Talk  on  Reconstruction.         99 

deep,  irremediable  ulcer  in  society,  namely,  domestic 
service,  we  hold  that  the  last  workings  of  pure  democ- 
racy will  cleanse  and  heal  it.  When  right  ideas  are 
sufficiently  spread,  —  when  everybody  is  self-helpful 
and  capable  of  being  self-supporting,  —  when  there  is 
a  fair  start  for  every  human  being  in  the  race  of  life, 
and  all  its  prizes  are,  without  respect  of  persons,  to 
be  obtained  by  the  best  runner,  —  when  every  kind 
of  useful  labor  is  thoroughly  respected,  —  then  there 
will  be  a  clear,  just,  wholesome  basis  of  intercourse 
on  which  employers  and  employed  can  move  without 
wrangling  or  discord. 

"  Renouncing  all  claims  to  superiority  on  the  one 
hand,  and  all  thought  of  servility  on  the  other,  service 
can  be  rendered  by  fair  contracts  and  agreements, 
with  that  mutual  respect  and  benevolence  which 
every  human  being  owes  to  every  other. 

"  But  for  this  transition  period,  which  is  wearing 
out  the  life  of  so  many  women,  and  making  so  many 
households  uncomfortable,  I  have  some  alleviating 
suggestions,  which  I  shall  give  in  my  next  chapter." 


IV. 

IS  WOMAN   A  WORKER?* 

"  T)APA,  do  you  see  what  the  Evening  Post  says 
J-     of  your    New- Year's   article    on    Reconstruc- 
tion?"  said  Jennie,  as  we   were   all  sitting  in   the 
library  after  tea. 
"  I  have  not  seen  it." 

"Well,  then,  the  charming  writer,  whoever  he  is, 
takes  up  for  us  girls  and  women,  and  maintains  that 
no  work  of  any  sort  ought  to  be  expected  of  us ;  that 
our  only  mission  in  life  is  to  be  beautiful,  and  to 
refresh  and  elevate  the  spirits  of  men  by  being  so. 
If  I  get  a  husband,  my  mission  is  to  be  always  be- 
comingly dressed,  to  display  most  captivating  toi- 
lettes, and  to  be  always  in  good  spirits,  —  as,  under 
the  circumstances,  I  always  should  be,  —  and  thus 
'renew  his  spirits'  when  he  conies  in  weary  with  the 
toils  of  life.  Household  cares  are  to  be  far  from 
me :  they  destroy  my  cheerfulness  and  injure  my 
beauty. 


Is  Woman  a  Worker?  101 

"He  says  that  the  New  England  standard  of  ex- 
cellence as  applied  to  woman  has  been  a  mistaken 
one ;  and,  in  consequence,  though  the  girls  are  beau- 
tiful, the  matrons  are  faded,  overworked,  and  unin- 
teresting; and  that  such  a  state  of  society  tends  to 
immorality,  because,  when  wives  are  no  longer  charm- 
ing, men  are  open  to  the  temptation  to  desert  their 
firesides,  and  get  into  mischief  generally.  He  seems 
particularly  to  complain  of  your  calling  ladies  who 
do  nothing  the  '  fascinating  lazzaroni  of  the  parlor 
and  boudoir.' " 

"There  was  too  much  truth  back  of  that  arrow 
not  to  wound,"  said  Theophilus  Thoro,  who  was  en- 
sconced, as  usual,  in  his  dark  corner,  whence  he 
supervises  our  discussions. 

"Come,  Mr.  Thoro,  we  won't  have  any  of  your 
bitter  moralities,"  said  Jennie ;  "  they  are  only  to 
be  taken  as  the  invariable  bay-leaf  which  Professor 
Blot  introduces  into  all  his  recipes  for  soups  and 
stews,  —  a  little  elegant  bitterness,  to  be  kept  taste- 
fully in  the  background.  You  see  now,  papa,  I 
should  like  the  vocation  of  being  beautiful.  It  would 
just  suit  me  to  wear  point-lace  and  jewelry,  and  to 
have  life  revolve  round  me,  as  some  beautiful  star, 
and  feel  that  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  shine  and  re- 
fresh the  spirits  of  all  gazers,  and  that  in  this  way  I 
was  truly  useful,  and  fulfilling  the  great  end  of  my 


IO2  The  Chimney-Corner. 

being ;  but  alas  for  this  doctrine !  all  women  have 
not  beauty.  The  most  of  us  can  only  hope  not  to 
be  called  ill-looking,  and,  when  we  get  ourselves  up 
with  care,  to  look  fresh  and  trim  and  agreeable ; 
which  fact  interferes  with  the  theory." 

"Well,  for  my  part,"  said  young  Rudolph,  "I  go 
for  the  theory  of  the  beautiful.  If  ever  I  marry,  it 
is  to  find  an  asylum  for  ideality.  I  don't  want  to 
make  a  culinary  marriage  or  a  business  partnership. 
I  want  a  being  whom  I  can  keep  in  a  sphere  of 
poetry  and  beauty,  out  of  the  dust  and  grime  of  every- 
day life." 

"Then,"  said  Mr.  Theophilus,  "you  must  either 
be  a  rich  man  in  your  own  right,  or  your  fair  ideal 
must  have  a  handsome  fortune  of  her  own." 

"I  never  will  marry  a  rich  wife,"  quoth  Rudolph. 
"  My  wife  must  be  supported  by  me,  not  I  by  her." 

Rudolph  is  another  of  the  habitues  of  our  chim- 
ney-corner, representing  the  order  of  young  knight- 
hood in  America,  and  his  dreams  and  fancies,  if 
impracticable,  are  always  of  a  kind  to  make  every 
one  think  him  a  good  fellow.  He  who  has  no  ro- 
mantic dreams  at  twenty-one  will  be  a  horribly  dry 
peascod  at  fifty;  therefore  it  is  that  I  gaze  rever- 
ently at  all  Rudolph's  chateaus  in  Spain,  which 
want  nothing  to  complete  them  except  solid  earth 
to  stand  on. 


Is  Woman  a  Worker?  103 

"  And  pray,"  said  Theophilus,  "  how  long  will  it 
take  a  young  lawyer  or  physician,  starting  with  no 
heritage  but  his  own  brain,  to  create  a  sphere  of 
poetry  and  beauty  in  which  to  keep  his  goddess? 
How  much  a  year  will  be  necessary,  as  the  English 
say,  to  do  this  garden  of  Eden,  whereinto  shall  enter 
only  the  poetry  of  life  ? " 

"I  don't  know.  I  haven't  seen  it  near  enough 
to  consider.  It  is  because  I  know  the  difficulty  of 
its  attainment  that  I  have  no  present  thoughts  of 
marriage.  Marriage  is  to  me  in  the -bluest  of  all 
blue  distances,  —  far  off,  mysterious,  and  dreamy  as 
the  Mountains  of  the  Moon  or  sources  of  the  Nile. 
It  shall  come  only  when  I  have  secured  a  fortune 
that  shall  place  my  wife  above  all  necessity  of  work 
or  care." 

"  I  desire  to  hear  from  you,"  said  Theophilus, 
"  when  you  have  found  the  sum  that  will  keep  a 
woman  from  care.  I  know  of  women  now  inhabit- 
ing palaces,  waited  on  at  every  turn  by  servants,  with 
carriages,  horses,  jewels,  laces,  cashmeres,  enough 
for  princesses,  who  are  eaten  up  by  care.  One  lies 
awake  all  night  on  account  of  a  wrinkle  in  the  waist 
of  her  dress ;  another  is  dying  because  no  silk  of  a 
certain  inexpressible  shade  is  to  be  found  in  New 
York;  a  third  has  had  a  dress  sent  home,  which 
has  proved  such  a  failure  that  life  seems  no  longer 


IO4  The  Chimncy-Corner. 

worth  having.  If  it  were  not  for  the  consolations  of 
religion,  one  does  n't  know  what  would  become  of 
her.  The  fact  is,  that  care  and  labor  are  as  much 
correlated  to  human  existence  as  shadow  is  to  light; 
•there  is  no  such  thing  as  excluding  them  from  any 
mortal  lot.  You  may  make  a  canary-bird  or  a  gold- 
fish live  in  absolute  contentment  without  a  care  or 
labor,  but  a  human  being  you  cannot.  Human  be- 
ings are  restless  and  active  in  their  very  nature,  and 
will  do  something,  and  that  something  will  prove  a 
care,  a  labor,  and  a  fatigue,  arrange  it  how  you  will. 
As  long  as  there  is  anything  to  be  desired  and  not 
yet  attained,  so  long  its  attainment  will  be  attempted ; 
so  long  as  that  attainment  is  doubtful  or  difficult, 
so  long  will  there  be  care  and  anxiety.  When  bound- 
less wealth  releases  woman  from  every  family  care, 
she  immediately  makes  herself  a  new  set  of  cares 
in  another  direction,  and  has  just  as  many  anxieties 
as  the  most  toilful  housekeeper,  only  they  are  of  a 
different  kind.  Talk  of  labor,  and  look  at  the  upper 
classes  in  London  or  in  New  York  in  the  fashionable 
season.  Do  any  women  work  harder  ?  To  rush  from 
crowd  to  crowd  all  night,  night  after  night,  seeing 
what  they  are  tired  of,  making  the  agreeable  over 
an  abyss  of  inward  yawning,  crowded,  jostled,  breath- 
ing hot  air,  and  crushed  in  halls  and  stairways,  with- 
out a  moment  of  leisure  for  months  and  months,  till 


Is  Woman  a  Worker?  105 

brain  and  nerve  and  sense  reel,  and  the  country  is 
longed  for  as  a  period  of  resuscitation  and  relief! 
Such  is  the  release  from  labor  and  fatigue  brought 
by  wealth.  The  only  thing  that  makes  all  this  labor 
at  all  endurable  is,  that  it  is  utterly  and  entirely  use- 
less, and  does  no  good  to  any  one  in  creation  ;  this 
alone  makes  it  genteel,  and  distinguishes  it  from  the 
vulgar  toils  of  a  housekeeper.  These  delicate  crea- 
tures, who  can  go  to  three  or  four  parties  a  night 
for  three  months,  would  be  utterly  desolate  if  they 
had  to  watch  one  night  in  a  sick-room ;  and  though 
they  can  exhibit  any  amount  of  physical  endurance 
and  vigor  in  crowding  into  assembly  rooms,  and 
breathe  tainted  air  in  an  opera-house  with  the  most 
martyr-like  constancy,  they  could  not  sit  one  half- 
hour  in  the  close  room  where  the  sister  of  charity 
spends  hours  in  consoling  the  sick  or  aged  poor." 

"  Mr.  Theophilus  is  quite  at  home  now,"  said  Jen- 
nie ;  "  only  start  him  on  the  track  of  fashionable  life, 
and  he  takes  the  course  like  a  hound.  But  hear, 
now,  our  champion  of  the  Evening  Post :  — 

"'The  instinct  of  women  to  seek  a  life  of  repose, 
their  eagerness  to  attain  the  life  of  elegance,  does  not 
mean  contempt  for  labor,  but  it  is  a  confession  of 
unfitness  for  labor.  Women  were  not  intended  to 
work,  —  not  because  work  is  ignoble,  but  because  it 
is  as  disastrous  to  the  beauty  of  a  woman  as  is  fric- 
5* 


io6  The  Chimney- Corner. 

tion  to  the  bloom  and  softness  of  a  flower.  Woman 
is  to  be  kept  in  the  garden  of  life  ;  she  is  to  rest,  to 
receive,  to  praise ;  she  is  to  be  kept  from  the  work- 
shop world,  where  innocence  is  snatched  with  rude 
hands,  and  softness  is  blistered  into  unsightliness  or 
hardened  into  adamant.  No  social  truth  is  more  in 
need  of  exposition  and  illustration  than  this  one; 
and,  above  all,  the  people  of  New  England  need  to 
know  it,  and,  better,  they  need  to  believe  it. 

" '  It  is  therefore  with  regret  that  we  discover  Chris- 
topher Crowfield  applying  so  harshly,  and,  as  we  think 
so  indiscriminatingly,  the  theory  of  work  to  women, 
and  teaching  a  society  made  up  of  women  sacrificed 
in  the  workshops  of  the  state,  or  to  the  dust-pans  and 
kitchens  of  the  house,  that  women  must  work,  ought 
to  work,  and  are  dishonored  if  they  do  not  work ;  and 
that  a  woman  committed  to  the  drudgery  of  a  house- 
hold is  more  creditably  employed  than  when  she  is 
charming,  fascinating,  irresistible,  in  the  parlor  or 
boudoir.  The  consequence  of  this  fatal  mistake  is 
manifest  throughout  New  England,  —  in  New  Eng- 
land, where  the  girls  are  all  beautiful  and  the  wives 
and  mothers  faded,  disfigured,  and  without  charm  or 
attractiveness.  The  moment  a  girl  marries  in  New 
England  she  is  apt  to  become  a  drudge,  or  a  lay  figure 
on  which  to  exhibit  the  latest  fashions.  She  never 
has  beautiful  hands,  and  she  would  not  have  a  beauti- 


Is  Woman  a  Worker?  107 

ful  face  if  a  utilitarian  society  could  "  apply  "  her  face 
to  anything  but  the  pleasure  of  the  eye.  Her  hands 
lose  their  shape  and  softness  after  childhood,  and 
domestic  drudgery  destroys  her  beauty  of  form  and 
softness  and  bloom  of  complexion  after  marriage.  To 
correct,  or  rather  to  break  up,  this  despotism  of 
household  cares,  or  of  work,  over  w'oman,  American 
society  must  be  taught  that  women  will  inevitably  fade 
and  deteriorate,  unless  it  insures  repose  and  comfort 
to  them.  It  must  be  taught  that  reverence  for  beauty 
is  the  normal  condition,  while  the  theory  of  work, 
applied  to  women,  is  disastrous  alike  to  beauty  and 
morals.  Work,  when  it  is  destructive  to  men  or  wo- 
men, is  forced  and  unjust. 

"  '  All  the  great  masculine  or  creative  epochs  have 
been  distinguished  by  spontaneous  work  on  the  part 
of  men,  and  universal  reverence  and  care  for  beauty. 
The  praise  of  work,  and  sacrifice  of  women  to  this 
great  heartless  devil  of  work,  belong  only  to,  and  are 
the  social  doctrine  of,  a  mechanical  age  and  a  utilita- 
rian epoch.  And  if  the  New  England  idea  of  social 
life  Continues  to  bear  so  cruelly  on  woman,  we  shall 
have  a  reaction  somewhat  unexpected  and  shocking.'  " 

"  Well  now,  say  what  you  will,"  said  Rudolph,  "  you 
have  expressed  my  idea  of  the  conditions  of  the  sex. 
Woman  was  not  made  to  work  ;  she  was  made  to  be 
taken  care  of  by  man.  All  that  is  severe  and  trying, 


IO8  The  Cliimncy-Corncr. 

whether  in  study  or  in  practical  life,  is  and  ought  to 
be  in  its  very  nature  essentially  the  work  of  the  male 
sex.  The  value  of  woman  is  precisely  the  value  of 
those  priceless  works  of  art  for  which  we  build  mu- 
seums,—  which  we  shelter  and  guard  as  the  world's 
choicest  heritage ;  and  a  lovely,  cultivated,  refined 
woman,  thus  sheltered,  and  guarded,  and  developed, 
has  a  worth  that  cannot  be  estimated  by  any  gross, 
material  standard.  So  I  subscribe  to  the  sentiments 
of  Miss  Jennie's  friend  without  scruple." 

"  The  great  trouble  in  settling  all  these  society  ques- 
tions," said  I,  "  lies  in  the  gold-washing,  —  the  cra- 
dling I  think  the  miners  call  it  If  all  the  quartz  were 
in  one  stratum  and  all  the  gold  in  another,  it  would 
save  us  a  vast  deal  of  trouble.  In  the  ideas  of  Jen- 
nie's friend  of  the  Evening  Post  there  is  a  line  of 
truth  and  a  line  of  falsehood  so  interwoven  and 
threaded  together  that  it  is  impossible  wholly  to  as- 
sent or  dissent.  So  with  your  ideas,  Rudolph,  there 
is  a  degree  of  truth  in  them,  but  there  is  also  a  fal- 
lacy. 

"  It  is  a  truth,  that  woman  as  a  sex  ought  not  to  do 
the  hard  work  of  the  world,  either  social,  intellectual, 
or  moral.  There  are  evidences  in  her  physiology  that 
this  was  not  intended  for  her,  and  our  friend  of  the 
Evening  Post  is  right  in  saying  that  any  country  will 
advance  more  rapidly  in  civilization  and  refinement 


Is  Woman  a  Worker?  109 

where  woman  is  thus  sheltered  and  protected.  And  I 
think,  furthermore,  that  there  is  no  country  in  the 
world  where  women  are  so  much  considered  and  cared 
for  and  sheltered,  in  every  walk  of  life,  as  in  America. 
In  England  and  France,  —  all  over  the  continent  of 
Europe,  in  fact, . —  the  other  sex  are  deferential  to 
women  only  from  some  presumption  of  their  social 
standing,  or  from  the  fact  of  acquaintanceship  ;  but 
among  strangers,  and  under  circumstances  where  no 
particular  rank  or  position  can  be  inferred,  a  woman 
travelling  in  England  or  France  is  jostled  and  pushed 
to  the  wall,  and  left  to  take  her  own  chance,  precisely 
as  if  she  were  not  a  woman.  Deference  to  delicacy 
and  weakness,  the  instinct  of  protection,  does  not  ap- 
pear to  characterize  the  masculine  population  of  any 
other  quarter  of  the  world  so  much  as  that  of  America. 
In  France,  les  Messieurs  will  form  a  circle  round  the 
fire  in  the  receiving-room  of  a  railroad  station,  and  sit, 
tranquilly  smoking  their  cigars,  while  ladies  who  do 
not  happen  to  be  of  their  acquaintance  are  standing 
shivering  at  the  other  side  of  the  room.  In  England, 
if  a  lady  is  incautiously  booked  for  an  outside  place 
on  a  coach,  in  hope  of  seeing  the  scenery,  and  the 
day  turns  out  hopelessly  rainy,  no  gentleman  in  the 
coach  below  ever  thinks  of  offering  to  change  seats 
with  her,  though  it  pour  torrents.  In  America,  the 
roughest  backwoods  steamboat  or  canal-boat  captain 


no  The  Chimney-Corner. 

always,  as  a  matter  of  course,  considers  himself 
charged  with  the  protection  of  the  ladies.  '  Place  aux 
dames1  is  written  in  the  heart  of  many  a  shaggy  fellow 
who  could  not  utter  a  French  word  any  more  than 
could  a  buffalo.  It  is  just  as  I  have  before  said,  — 
women  are  the  recognized  aristocracy,  the  only  aris- 
tocracy, of  America;  and,  so  far  from  regarding  this 
fact  as  objectionable,  it  is  an  unceasing  source  of 
pride  in  my  country. 

"That  kind  of  knightly  feeling  towards  woman 
which  reverences  her  delicacy,  her  frailty,  which  pro- 
tects and  cares  for  her,  is,  I  think,  the  crown  of  man- 
hood ;  and  without  it  a  man  is  only  a  rough  animal. 
But  our  fair  aristocrats  and  their  knightly  defenders 
need"  to  be  cautioned  lest  they  lose  their  position,  as 
many  privileged  orders  have  before  done,  by  an  arro- 
gant and  selfish  use  of  power. 

"  I  have  said  that  the  vices  of  aristocracy  are  more 
developed  among  women  in  America  than  among 
men,  and  that,  while  there  are  no  men  in  the  North- 
ern States  who  are  not  ashamed  of  living  a  merely 
idle  life  of  pleasure,  there  are  many  women  who  make 
a  boast  of  helplessness  and  ignorance  in  woman's 
family  duties  which  any  man  would  be  ashamed  to 
make  with  regard  to  man's  duties,  as  if  such  helpless- 
ness and  ignorance  were  a  grace  and  a  charm. 

"  There  are  women  who  contentedly  live  on,  year 


Is  Woman  a  Worker?  ill 

after  year,  a  life  of  idleness,  while  the  husband  and 
father  is  straining  every  nerve,  growing  prematurely 
old  and  gray,  abridged  of  almost  every  form  of  recre- 
ation or  pleasure,  —  all  that  he  may  keep  them  in  a 
state  of  careless  ease  and  festivity.  It  may  be  very 
fine,  very  generous,  very  knightly,  in  the  man  who 
thus  toils  at  the  oar  that  his  princesses  may  enjoy 
their  painted  voyages  ;  but  what  is  it  for  the  women  ? 

"A  woman  is  a  moral  being  —  an  immortal  soul 
—  before  she  is  a  woman  ;  and  as  such  she  is  charged 
by  her  Maker  with  some  share  of  the  great  burden  of 
work  which  lies  on  the  world. 

"  Self-denial,  the  bearing  of  the  cross,  are  stated  by 
Christ  as  indispensable  conditions  to  the  entrance  into 
his  kingdom,  and  no  exception  is  made  for  man  or 
woman.  Some  task,  some  burden,  some  cross,  each 
one  must  carry;  and  there  must  be  something  done 
in  every  true  and  worthy  life,  not  as  amusement,  but 
as  duty,  —  not  as  play,  but  as  earnest  work,  —  and  no 
human  being  can  attain  to  the  Christian  standard 
without  this. 

"  When  Jesus  Christ  took  a  towel  and  girded  him- 
self, poured  water  into  a  basin,  and  washed  his  dis- 
ciples' feet,  he  performed  a  significant  and  sacrament- 
al act,  which  no  man  or  woman  should  ever  forget. 
If  wealth  and  rank  and  power  absolve  from  the  ser- 
vices of  life,  then  certainly  were  Jesus  Christ  absolved, 


112  TJie  Chimney-Corner, 

as  he  says,  — '  Ye  call  me  Master,  and  Lord.  If  I, 
then,  your  Lord  and  Master,  have  washed  your  feet,  ye 
also  ought  to  wash  one  another's  feet.  .For  I  have 
given  you  an  example,  that  ye  should  do  as  I  have 
done  to  you.' 

"  Let  a  man  who  seeks  to  make  a  terrestrial  para- 
dise for  the  woman  of  his  heart,  —  to  absolve  her 
from  all  care,  from  all  labor,  —  to  teach  her  to  accept 
and  to  receive  the  labor  of  others  without  any  attempt 
to  offer  labor  in  return,  —  consider  whether  he  is  not 
thus  going  directly  against  the  fundamental  idea  of 
Christianity,  —  taking  the  direct  way  to  make  his  idol 
selfish  and  exacting,  to  rob  her  of  the  highest  and 
noblest  beauty  of  womanhood. 

"  In  that  chapter  of  the  Bible  where  the  relation 
between  man  and  woman  is  stated,  it  is  thus  said, 
with  quaint  simplicity :  '  It  is  not  good  that  the 
man  should  be  alone  ;  I  will  make  him  an  help  meet 
for  him.'  Woman  the  helper  of  man,  not  his  toy,  — 
not  a  picture,  not  a  statue,  not  a  work  of  art,  but  a 
HELPER,  a  doer,  —  such  is  the  view  of  the  Bible  and 
the  Christian  religion. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  that  women  should  work  phys- 
ically or  morally  to  an  extent  which  impairs  beauty. 
In  France,  where  woman  is  harnessed  with  an  ass  to 
the  plough  which  her  husband  drives,  —  where  she 
digs,  and  wields  the  pickaxe,  —  she  becomes  prema- 


Is  Woman  a  Worker  ?  113 

turely  hideous ;  but  in  America,  where  woman  reigns 
as  queen  in  every  household,  she  may  surely  be  a 
good  and  thoughtful  housekeeper,  she  may  have  phys- 
ical strength  exercised  in  lighter  domestic  toils,  not 
only  without  injuring  her  beauty,  but  with  manifest 
advantage  to  it.  Almost  every  growing  young  girl 
would  be  the  better  in  health,  and  therefore  hand- 
somer, for  two  hours  of  active  housework  daily ;  and 
the  habit  of  usefulness  thereby  gained  would  be  an 
equal  advantage  to  her  moral  development.  The 
labors  of  modern,  well-arranged  houses  are  not  in  any 
sense  severe ;  they  are  as  gentte  as  any  kind  of  exer- 
cise that  can  be  devised,  and  they  bring  into  play 
muscles  that  ought  to  be  exercised  to  be  healthily  de- 
veloped. 

"  The  great  danger  to  the  beauty  of  American  wo- 
men does  not  lie,  as  the  writer  of  the  Post  contends, 
in  an  overworking  of  the  physical  system  which  shall 
stunt  and  deform  ;  on  the  contrary,  American  women 
of  the  comfortable  classes  are  in  danger  of  a  loss  of 
physical  beauty  from  the  entire  deterioration  of  the 
muscular  system  for  want  of  exercise.  Take  the  life 
of  any  American  girl  in  one  of  our  large  towns,  and 
see  what  it  is.  We  have  an  educational  system  of 
public  schools  which  for  intellectual  culture  is  a  just 
matter  of  pride  to  any  country.  From  the  time  that 
the  girl  is.  seven  years  old,  her  first  thought,  when 


H4  The  Chimney-Corner. 

she  rises  in  the  morning,  is  to  eat  her  breakfast  and 
be  off  to  her  school.  There  really  is  no  more  time 
than  enough  to  allow  her  to  make  that  complete  toilet 
which  every  well-bred  female  ought  to  make,  and  to 
take  her  morning  meal  before  her  school  begins.  She 
returns  at  noon  with  just  time  to  eat  her  dinner,  and 
the  afternoon  session  begins.  She  comes  home  at 
night  with  books,  slate,  and  lessons  enough  to  occupy 
her  evening.  What  time  is  there  for  teaching  her  any 
household  work,  for  teaching  her  to  cut  or  fit  or  sew, 
or  to  inspire  her  with  any  taste  for  domestic  duties  ? 
Her  arms  have  no  exercise  ;  her  chest  and  lungs,  and 
all  the  complex  system  of  muscles  which  are  to  be 
perfected  by  quick  and  active  movement,  are  com- 
pressed while  she  bends  over  book  and  slate  and 
drawing-board  ;  while  the  ever-active  brain  is  kept  all 
the  while  going  at  the  top  of  its  speed.  She  grows 
up  spare,  thin,  and  delicate  ;  and  while  the  Irish  girl, 
who  sweeps  the  parlors,  rubs  the  silver,  and  irons  the 
muslins,  is  developing  a  finely  rounded  arm  and  bust, 
the  American  girl  has  a  pair  of  bones  at  her  sides, 
and  a  bust  composed  of  cotton  padding,  the  work  of  a 
skilful  dress-maker.  Nature,  who  is  no  respecter  of 
persons,  gives  to  Colleen  Bawn,  who  uses  her  arms 
and  chest,  a  beauty  which  perishes  in  the  gentle,  lan- 
guid Edith,  who  does  nothing  but  study  and  read." 
"  But  is  it  not  a  fact,"  said  Rudolph,  "  as  stated  by 


Is  Woman  a  Worker?  115 

our  friend  of  the  Post,  that  American  matrons  are 
perishing,  and  their  beauty  and  grace  all  withered, 
from  overwork  ? " 

.  "  It  is,"  said  my  wife ;  "  but  why  ?  It  is  because 
.  they  are  brought  up  without  vigor  or  muscular 
strength,  without  the  least  practical  experience  of 
household  labor,  or  those  means  of  saving  it  which 
come  by  daily  practice ;  and  then,  after  marriage, 
when  physically  weakened  by  maternity,  embarrassed 
by  the  care  of  young  children,  they  are  often  suddenly 
deserted  by  every  efficient  servant,  and  the  whole 
machinery  of  a  complicated  household  left  in  their 
weak,  inexperienced  hands.  In  the  country,  you  see 
a  household  perhaps  made  void  some  fine  morning  by 
Biddy's  sudden  departure,  and  nobody  to  make  the 
bread,  or  cook  the  steak,  or  sweep  the  parlors,  or  do 
one  of  the  complicated  offices  of  a  family,  and  no 
bakery,  cook-shop,  or  laundry  to  turn  to  for  alleviation. 
A  lovely,  refined  home  becomes  in  a  few  hours  a  howl- 
ing desolation  ;  and  then  ensues  a  long  season  of 
breakage,  waste,  distraction,  as  one  wild  Irish  immi- 
grant after  another  introduces  the  style  of  Irish  cot- 
tage life  into  an  elegant  dwelling. 

"  Now  suppose  I  grant  to  the  Evening  Post  that 
woman  ought  to  rest,  to  be  kept  in  the  garden  of  life, 
and  all  that,  how  is  this  to  be  done  in  a  country  where 
a  state  of  things  like  this  is  the  commonest  of  occur- 


n6  The  CJiimncy-Corner. 

rences  ?  And  is  it  any  kindness  or  reverence  to  wo- 
man,  to  educate  her  for  such  an  inevitable  destiny  by 
a  life  of  complete  physical  delicacy  and  incapacity? 
Many  a  woman  who  has  been  brought  into  these  crual 
circumstances  would  willingly  exchange  all  her  knowl- 
edge of  German  and  Italian,  and  all  her  graceful  ac- 
complishments, for  a  good  physical  development,  and 
some  respectable  savoir  faire  in  ordinary  life. 

"  Moreover,  American  matrons  are  overworked  be- 
cause some  unaccountable  glamour  leads  them  to  con- 
tinue to  bring  up  their  girls  in  the  same  inefficient 
physical  habits  which  resulted  in  so  much  misery  to 
themselves.  Housework  as  they  are  obliged  to  do  it, 
untrained,  untaught,  exhausted,  and  in  company  with 
rude,  dirty,  unkempt  foreigners,  seems  to  them  a  deg- 
radation which  they  will  spare  to  their  daughters. 
The  daughter  goes  on  with  her  schools  and  accom- 
plishments, and  leads  in  the  family  the  life  of  an  ele- 
gant little  visitor  during  all  those  years  when  a  young 
girl  might  be  gradually  developing  and  strengthening 
her  muscles  in  healthy  household  work.  It  never 
occurs  to  her  that  she  can  or  ought  to  fill  any  of  the 
domestic  gaps  into  which  her  mother  always  steps  ; 
and  she  comforts  herself  with  the  thought,  '  I  don't 
know  how  ;  I  can't ;  I  have  n't  the  strength.  I  carit 
sweep  ;  it  blisters  my  hands.  If  I  should  stand  at 
the  ironing-table  an  hour,  I  should  be  ill  for  a  week. 


Is  Woman  ^  Worker?  117 

As  to  cooking,  I  don't  know  anything  about  it.'  And 
so,  when  the  cook,  or  the  chambermaid,  or  nurse,  or 
all  together,  vacate  the  premises,  it  is  the  mamma  who 
is  successively  cook,  and  chambermaid,  and  nurse; 
and  this  is  the  reason  why  matrons  fade  and  are  over- 
worked. 

"  NOW,  Mr.  Rudolph,  do  you  think  a  woman  any 
less  beautiful  or  interesting  because  she  is  a  fully 
developed  physical  being,  —  because  her  muscles 
have  been  rounded  and  matured  into  strength,  so  that 
she  can  meet  the  inevitable  emergencies  of  life  with- 
out feeling  them  to  be  distressing  hardships  ?  If  there 
be  a  competent,  well-trained  servant  to  sweep  and  dust 
the  parlor,  and  keep  all  the  machinery  of  the  house  in 
motion,  she  may  very  properly  select  her  work  out  of 
the  family,  in  some  form  of  benevolent  helpfulness  ; 
but  when  the  inevitable  evil  hour  comes,  which  is 
likely  to  come  first  or  last  in  every  American  house- 
hold, is  a  woman  any  less  an  elegant  woman  because 
her  love  of  neatness,  order,  and  beauty  leads  her  to 
make  vigorous  personal  exertions  to  keep  her  own 
home  undefiled  ?  For  my  part,  I  think  a  disorderly, 
ill-kept  home,  a  sordid,  uninviting  table,  has  driven 
more  husbands  from  domestic  life  than  the  unattract- 
iveness  of  any  overworked  woman.  So  long  as  a 
woman  makes  her  home  harmonious  and  orderly,  so 
long  as  the  hour  of  assembling  around  the  family 


Il8  The  Chimney-Corner. 

table  is  something  to  be  looked  forward  to  as  a  com- 
fort and  a  refreshment,  a  man  cannot  see  that  the 
good  house  fairy,  who  by  some  magic  keeps  every- 
thing so  delightfully,  has  either  a  wrinkle  or  a  gray 
hair. 

"  Besides,"  said  I,  "  I  must  tell  you,  Rudolph,  what 
you  fellows  of  twenty-one  are  slow  to  believe ;  and 
that  is,  that  the  kind  of  ideal  paradise  you  propose  in 
marriage,  is,  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  an  impossi- 
bility, —  that  the  familiarities  of  every-day  life  be- 
tween two  people  who  keep  house  together  must  and 
will  destroy  it.  Suppose  you  are  married  to  Cytherea 
herself,  and  the  next  week  attacked  with  a  rheumatic 
fever.  If  the  tie  between  you  is  that  of  true  and 
honest  love,  Cytherea  will  put  on  a  gingham  wrapper, 
and  with  her  own  sculptured  hands  wring  out  the 
flannels  which  shall  relieve  your  pains ;  and  she  will 
be  no  true  woman  if  she  do  not  prefer  to  do  this  to 
employing  any  nurse  that  could  be  hired.  True  love 
ennobles  and  dignifies  the  material  labors  of  life  ;  and 
homely  services  rendered  for  love's  sake  have  in  them 
a  poetry  that  is  immortal. 

"No  true-hearted  woman  can  find  herself,  in  real, 
actual  life,  unskilled  and  unfit  to  minister  to  the 
wants  and  sorrows  of  those  dearest  to  her,  without  a 
secret  sense  of  degradation.  The  feeling  of  useless- 
ness  is  an  extremely  unpleasant  one.  Tom  Hood,  in 


Is  Woman  a  Worker?  119 

a  very  humorous  paper,  describes  a  most  accom- 
plished schoolmistress,  a  teacher  of  all  the  arts  and 
crafts  which  are  supposed  to  make  up  fine  gentle- 
women, who  is  stranded  in  a  rude  German  inn,  with 
her  father  writhing  in  the  anguish  of  a  severe  attack 
of  gastric  inflammation.  The  helpless  lady  gazes  on 
her  suffering  parent,  longing  to  help  him,  and  think- 
ing over  all  her  various  little  store  of  accomplish- 
ments, not  one  of  which  bear  the  remotest  relation  to 
the  case.  She  could  knit  him  a  bead-purse,  or  make 
him  a  guard-chain,  or  work  him  a  footstool,  or  festoon 
him  with  cut  tissue-paper,  or  sketch  his  likeness,  or 
crust  him  over  with  alum  crystals,  or  stick  him  over 
with  little  rosettes  of  red  and  white  wafers  ;  but  none 
of  these  being  applicable  to  his  present  case,  she  sits 
gazing  in  resigned  imbecility,  till  finally  she  desper- 
ately resolves  to  improvise  him  some  gruel,  and,  after 
a  laborious  turn  in  the  kitchen,  —  after  burning  her 
dress  and  blacking  her  fingers,  —  succeeds  only  in 
bringing  him  a  bowl  of  paste! 

11  Not  unlike  this  might  be  the  feeling  of  many  an 
elegant  and  accomplished  woman,  whose  education 
has  taught  and  practised  her  in  everything  fhac 
woman  ought  to  know,  except  those  identical  ones 
which  fit  her  for  the  care  of  a  home,  for  the  comfort 
of  a  sick-room ;  and  so  I  say  again,  that,  whatever  a 
woman  may  be  in  the  way  of  beauty  and  elegance, 


I2O  The  Chimney-Corner. 

she  must  have  the  strength  and  skill  of  a  practical 
worker,  or  she  is  nothing.  She  is  not  simply  to  be  the 
beautiful,  —  she  is  to  make  the  beautiful,  and  preserve 
it ;  and  she  who  makes  and  she  who  keeps  the  beau- 
tiful must  be  able  to  work,  and  know  how  to  work. 
Whatever  offices  of  life  are  performed  by  women  of 
culture  and  refinement  are  thenceforth  elevated  ;  they 
cease  to  be  mere  servile  toils,  and  become  expres- 
sions of  the  ideas  of  superior  beings.  If  a  true  lady 
makes  even  a  plate  of  toast,  in  arranging  a  petit  soupcr 
for  her  invalid  friend,  she  does  it  as  a  lady  should. 
She  does  not  cut  blundering  and  uneven  slices  ;  she 
does  not  burn  the  edges  ;  she  does  not  deluge  it  with 
bad  butter,  and  serve  it  cold;  but  she  arranges  and 
serves  all  with  an  artistic  care,  with  a  nicety  and  deli- 
cacy, which  make  it  worth  one's  while  to  have  a  lady 
friend  in  sickness. 

"  And  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  Monsieur  Blot  is 
teaching  classes  of  New  York  ladies  that  cooking  is 
not  a  vulgar  kitchen  toil,  to  be  left  to  blundering 
servants,  but  an  elegant  feminine  accomplishment, 
better  worth  a  woman's  learning  than  crochet  or 
embroidery ;  and  that  a  well-kept  culinary  apartment 
may  be  so  inviting  and  orderly  that  no  lady  need  feel 
her  ladyhood  compromised  by  participating  in  its 
pleasant  toils.  I  am  glad  to  know  that  his  cooking 
academy  is  thronged  with  more  scholars  than  he  can 


Is  Woman  a  Worker?  12 1 

accommodate,  and  from  ladies  in  the  best  classes  of 
society. 

"  Moreover,  I  am  glad  to  see  that  in  New  Bedford, 
recently,  a  public  course  of  instruction  in  the  art  of 
bread-making  has  been  commenced  by  a  lady,  and 
that  classes  of  the  most  respectable  young  and  mar- 
ried ladies  in  the  place  are  attending  them. 

"  These  are  steps  in  the  right  direction,  and  show 
that  our  fair  countrywomen,  with  the  grand  good- 
sense  which  is  their  leading  characteristic,  are  re- 
solved to  supply  whatever  in  our  national  life  is 
wanting. 

"I  do  not  fear  that  women  of  such  sense  and 
energy  will  listen  to  the  sophistries  which  would  per- 
suade them  that  elegant  imbecility  and  inefficiency 
are  charms  of  cultivated  womanhood  or  ingredients 
in  the  poetry  of  life.  She  alone  can  keep  the  poetry 
and  beauty  of  married  life  who  has  this  poetry  in  her 
soul ;  who  with  energy  and  discretion  can  throw  back 
and  out  of  sight  the  sordid  and  disagreeable  details 
which  beset  all  human  living,  and  can  keep  in  the 
foreground  that  which  is  agreeable  ;  who  has  enough 
knowledge  of  practical  household  matters  to  make 
unskilled  and  rude  hands  minister  to  her  cultivated 
and  refined  tastes,  and  constitute  her  skilled  brain 
the  guide  of  unskilled  hands.  From  such  a  home, 
with  such  a  mistress,  no  sirens  will .  seduce  a  man, 
6 


122  The  Chimney-Corner. 

even  though  the  hair  grow  gray,  and  the  merely 
physical  charms  of  early  days  gradually  pass  away. 
The  enchantment  that  was  about  her  person  alone  in 
the  days  of  courtship  seems  in  the  course  of  years  to 
have  interfused  and  penetrated  the  home  which  she 
has  created,  and  which  in  every  detail  is  only  an 
expression  of  her  personality.  Her  thoughts,  her 
plans,  her  provident  care,  are  everywhere ;  and  the 
home  attracts  and  holds  by  a  thousand  ties  the  heart 
which  before  marriage  was  held  by  the  woman  alone." 


V. 

r  TRANSITION. 

'THHE  fact  is,  my  dear,"  said  my  wife,  "  that  you 
-A-  have  thrown  a  stone  into  a  congregation  of 
blackbirds,  in  writing  as  you  have  of  our  family  wars 
and  wants.  The  response  comes  from  all  parts  of  the 
country,  and  the  task  of  looking  over  and  answering 
your  letters  becomes  increasingly  formidable.  Every- 
body has  something  to  say,  —  something  to  propose." 

" Give  me  a  resume"  said  I. 

"  Well,"  said  my  wife,  "  here  are  three  pages  from 
a'n  elderly  gentleman,  to  the  effect  that  women  are 
not  what  they  used  to  be,  —  that  daughters  are  a 
great  care  and  no  help,  —  that  girls  have  no  health 
and  no  energy  in  practical  life,  —  that  the  expense 
of  maintaining  a  household  is  so  great  that  young  men 
are  afraid  to  marry,  —  and  that  it  costs  more  now  per 
annum  to  dress  one  young  woman  than  it  used  to 
cost  to  carry  a  whole  family  of  sons  through  college. 
In  short,  the  poor  old  gentleman  is  in  a  desperate 


124  The  CJiimney-Comer. 

state  of  mind,  and  is  firmly  of  opinion  that  society 
is  going  to  ruin  by  an  express  train." 

"  Poor  old  fellow  ! "  said  I,  "  the  only  comfort  I  can 
offer  him  is  what  I  take  myself,  —  that  this  sad  world 
will  last  out  our  time  at  least.  Now  for  the  next." 

"  The  next  is  more  concise  and  spicy,"  said  my 
wife.  "I  will  read  it. 

"  '  Christopher  Crowfield,  Esq., 

" '  SIR,  —  If  you  want  to  know  how  American  wo- 
men are  to  be  brought  back  to  family  work,  I  can 
tell  you  a  short  method.  Pay  them  as  good  wages 
for  it  as  they  can  make  in  any  other  way.  I  get  from 
seven  to  nine  dollars  a  week  in  the  shop  where  I 
work ;  if  I  could  make  the  same  in  any  good  family, 
I  should  have  no  objection  to  doing  it. 

" '  Your  obedient  servant, 
" '  LETITIA.'  " 

"  My  correspondent  Letitia  does  not  tell  me,"  said 
I,  "  how  much  of  this  seven  or  nine  dollars  she  pays 
out  for  board  and  washing,  fire  and  lights.  If  she 
worked  in  a  good  family  at  two  or  three  dollars  a 
week,  it  is  easily  demonstrable,  that,  at  the  present 
cost  of  these  items,  she  would  make  as  much  clear 
profit  as  she  now  does  at  nine  dollars  for  her  shop- 
work. 


The  Transition.  125 

"And  there  are  two  other  things,  moreover,  which 
she  does  not  consider :  First,  that,  besides  board, 
washing,  fuel,  and  lights,  which  she  would  have  in 
a  family,  she  would  have  also  less  unintermitted  toil. 
Shop-work  exacts  its  ten  hours  per  diem ;  and  it 
makes  no  allowance  for  sickness  or  accident. 

"  A  good  domestic  in  a  good  family  finds  many 
hours  when  she  can  feel  free  to  attend  to  her  own 
affairs.  Her  work  consists  of  certain  definite  matters, 
which  being  done  her  time  is  her  own  ;  and  if  she 
have  skill  and  address  in  the  management  of  her 
duties,  she  may  secure  many  leisure  hours.  As 
houses  are  now  built,  and  with  the  many  labor-saving 
conveniences  that  are  being  introduced,  the  physical 
labor  of  housework  is  no  more  than  a  healthy  woman 
really  needs  to  keep  her  in  health.  In  case,  however, 
of  those  slight  illnesses  to  which  all  are  more  or  less 
liable,  and  which,  if  neglected,  often  lead  to  graver 
ones,  the  advantage  is  still  on  the  side  of  domestic 
service.  In  the  shop  and  factory,  every  hour  of  un- 
employed time  is  deducted  ;  an  illness  of  a  day  or  two 
is  an  appreciable  loss  of  just  so  much  money,  while 
the  expense  of  board  is  still  going  on.  But  in  the 
family  a  good  servant  is  always  considered.  When 
ill,  she  is  carefully  nursed  as  one  of  the  family,  has 
the  family  physician,  and  is  subject  to  no  deduction 
from  her  wages  for  loss  of  time,  I  have  known  more 


126  The  Chimney-Comer. 

than  one  instance  in  which  a  valued  domestic  has 
been  sent,  at  her  employer's  expense,  to  the  seaside 
or  some  other  pleasant  locality,  for  change  of  air, 
when  her  health  has  been  run  down. 

"  In  the  second  place,  family  work  is  more  remu- 
nerative, even  at  a  lower  rate  of  wages,  than  shop 
or  factory  work,  because  it  is  better  for  the  health. 
All  sorts  of  sedentary  employment,  pursued  by  num- 
bers of  persons  together  in  one  apartment,  are  more 
or  less  debilitating  and  unhealthy,  through  foul  air 
and  confinement. 

"  A  woman's  health  is  her  capital.  In  certain  ways 
of  work  she  obtains  more  income,  but  she  spends  on 
her  capital  to  do  it.  In  another  way  she  may  get  less 
income,  and  yet  increase  her  capital.  A  woman  can- 
not work  at  dress-making,  tailoring,  or  any  other  sed- 
entary employment,  ten  hours  a  day,  year  in  and  out, 
without  enfeebling  her  constitution,  impairing  her  eye- 
sight, and  bringing  on  a  complication  of  complaints, 
but  she  can  sweep,  wash,  cook,  and  do  the  varied 
duties  of  a  well-ordered  house  with  modern  arrange- 
ments, and  grow  healthier  every  year.  The  times, 
in  New  England,  when  all  women  did  housework  a 
part  of  every  day,  were  the  times  when  all  women 
were  healthy.  At  present,  the  heritage  of  vigorous 
muscles,  firm  nerves,  strong  backs,  and  cheerful  phys- 
ical life  has  gone  from  American  women,  and  is  taken 


The  Transition.  127 

up  by  Irish  women.  A  thrifty  young  man,  I  have 
lately  heard  of,  married  a  rosy  young  Irish  girl,  quite 
to  the  horror  of  his  mother  and  sisters,  but  defended 
himself  by  the  following  very  conclusive  logic  :  '  If 
I  marry  an  American  girl,  I  must  have  an  Irish  girl 
to  take  care  of  her ;  and  I  cannot  afford  to  support 
both.' 

"  Besides  all  this,  there  is  a  third  consideration, 
which  I  humbly  commend  to  my  friend  Letitia.  The 
turn  of  her  note  speaks  her  a  girl  of  good  common 
sense,  with  a  faculty  of  hitting  the  nail  square  on  the 
head  ;  and  such  a  girl  must  see  that  nothing  is  more 
likely  to  fall  out  than  that  she  will  some  day  be  mar- 
ried. Evidently,  our  fair  friend  is  born  to  rule ;  and 
at  this  hour,  doubtless,  her  foreordained  throne  and 
humble  servant  are  somewhere  awaiting  her. 

"  Now  domestic  service  is  all  the  while  fitting  a  girl 
physically,  mentally,  and  morally  for  her  ultimate 
vocation  and  sphere,  —  to  be  a  happy  wife  and  to 
make  a  happy  home.  But  factory  work,  shop  work, 
and  all  employments  of  that  sort,  are  in  their  nature 
essentially  undomestic,  —  entailing  the  constant  ne- 
cessity of  a  boarding-house  life,'  and  of  habits  as  dif- 
ferent as  possible  from  the  quiet  routine  of  home. 
The  girl  who  is  ten  hours  on  the  strain  of  continued, 
unintermitted  toil  feels  no  inclination,  when  evening 
comes,  to  sit  down  and  darn  her  stockings,  or  make 


128  The  Chimney-Corner. 

over  her  dresses,  or  study  any  of  those  multifarious 
economies  which  turn  a  wardrobe  to  the  best  account. 
Her  nervous  system  is  flagging ;  she  craves  company 
and  excitement ;  and  her  dull,  narrow  room  is  de- 
serted for  some  place  of  amusement  or  gay  street 
promenade.  And  who  can  blame  her  ?  Let  any  sen- 
sible woman,  who  has  had  experience  of  shop  and 
factory  life,  recall  to  her  mind  the  ways  and  manners 
in  which  young  girls  grow  up  who  leave  a  father's 
roof  for  a  crowded  boarding-house,  without  any  super- 
vision of  matron  or  mother,  and  ask  whether  this  is 
the  best  school  for  training  young  American  wives 
and  mothers. 

"Doubtless  there  are  discreet  and  thoughtful 
women  who,  amid  all  these  difficulties,  do  keep  up 
thrifty,  womanly  habits,  but  they  do  it  by  an  effort 
greater  than  the  majority  of  girls  are  willing  to  make, 
and  greater  than  they  ought  to  make.  To  sew  or 
read  or  study  after  ten  hours  of  factory  or  shop  work 
is  a  further  drain  on  the  nervous  powers,  which  no 
woman  can  long  endure  without  exhaustion. 

"  When  the  time  arrives  that  such  a  girl  comes  to  a 
house  of  her  own,  she  comes  to  it  as  unskilled  in  all 
household  lore,  with  muscles  as  incapable  of  domestic 
labor,  and  nerves  as  sensitive,  as  if  she  had  been  lead- 
ing the  most  luxurious,  do-nothing,  fashionable  life. 
How  different  would  be  her  preparation,  had  the 


The  Transition. 


129 


forming  years  of  her  life  been  spent  in  the  labors  of 
a  family !  I  know  at  this  moment  a  lady  at  the  head 
of  a  rich  country  establishment,  filling  her  station  in 
society  with  dignity  and  honor,  who  gained  her  do- 
mestic education  in  a  kitchen  in  our  vicinity.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  a  small  farmer,  'and  when  the 
time  came  for  her  to  be  earning  her  living,  her  parents 
wisely  thought  it  far  better  that  she  should  gain  it  in  a 
way  which  would  at  the  same  time  establish  her  health 
and  fit  her  for  her  own  future  home.  In  a  cheerful, 
light,  airy  kitchen,  which  was  kept  so  tidy  always  as 
to  be  an  attractive  sitting-room;  she  and  another 
young  country-girl  were  trained  up  in  the  best  of 
domestic  economies  by  a  mistress  who  looked  well 
to  the  ways  of  her  household,  till  at  length  they  mar- 
ried from  the  house  with  honor,  and  went  to  practise 
in  homes  of  their  own  the  lessons  they  had  learned  in 
the  home  of  another.  Formerly,  in  New  England, 
such  instances  were  not  uncommon ;  —  would  that 
they  might  become  so  again  !  " 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  my  wife,  "  the  places  which  the 
daughters  of  American  farmers  used  to  occupy  in  our 
families  are  now  taken  by  young  girls  from  the  fam- 
ilies of  small  farmers  in  Ireland.  They  are  respect- 
able, tidy,  healthy,  and  capable  of  being  taught.  A 
good  mistress,  who  is  reasonable  and  liberal  in  her 
treatment,  is  able  to  make  them  fixtures.  They  get 
6*  i 


130  The  Chimney-Corner. 

good  wages,  and  have  few  expenses.  They  dress 
handsomely,  have  abundant  leisure  to  take  care  of 
their  clothes  and  turn  their  wardrobes  to  the  best 
account,  and  they  very  soon  acquire  skill  in  doing  it 
equal  to  that  displayed  by  any  women  of  any  country. 
They  remit  money  continually  to  relatives  in  Ireland, 
and  from  time  to  time  pay  the  passage  of  one  and 
another  to  this  country,  —  and  whole  families  have 
thus  been  established  in  American  life  by  the  efforts 
of  one  young  girl.  Now,  for  my  part,  I  do  not 
grudge  my  Irish  fellow-citizens  these  advantages 
obtained  by  honest  labor  and  good  conduct;  they 
deserve  all  the  good  fortune  thus  accruing  to  them. 
But  when  I  see  sickly,  nervous  American  women 
jostling  and  struggling  in  the  few  crowded  avenues 
which  are  open  to  mere  brain,  I  cannot  help  thinking 
how  much  better  their  lot  would  have  been,  with  good 
strong  bodies,  steady  nerves,  healthy  digestion,  and 
the  habit  of  looking  any  kind  of  work  in  the  face, 
which  used  to  be  characteristic  of  American  women 
generally,  and  of  Yankee  women  in  particular." 

"  The  matter  becomes  still  graver,"  said  I,  "  by  the 
laws  of  descent.  The  woman  who  enfeebles  her 
muscular  system  by  sedentary  occupation,  and  over- 
stimulates  her  brain  and  nervous  system,  when  she 
becomes  a  mother,  perpetuates  these  evils  to  her 
offspring.  Her  children  will  be  born  feeble  and  deli- 


The  Transition.  131 

cate,  incapable  of  sustaining  any  severe  strain  of  body 
or  mind.  The  universal  cry  now  about  the  ill  health 
of  young  American  girls  is  the  fruit  of  some  three 
generations  of  neglect  of  physical  exercise  and  undue 
stimulus  of  brain  and  nerves.  Young  girls  now  are 
universally  born  delicate.  The  most  careful  hygienic 
treatment  during  childhood,  the  strictest  attention  to 
diet,  dress,  and  exercise,  succeeds  merely  so  far  as  to 
produce  a  girl  who  is  healthy  so  long  only  as  she 
does  nothing.  With  the  least  strain,  her  delicate 
organism  gives  out,  now  here,  now  there.  She  can- 
not study  without  her  eyes  fail  or  she  has  headache, 
—  she  cannot  get  up  her  own  muslins,  or  sweep  a 
room,  or  pack  a  trunk,  without  bringing  on  a  back- 
ache, —  she  goes  to  a  concert  or  a  lecture,-and  must 
lie  by  all  the  next  day  from  the  exertion.  If  she 
skates,  she  is  sure  to  strain  some  muscle  ;  or  if  she 
falls  and  strikes  her  knee  or  hits  her  ankle,  a  blow 
that  a  healthy  girl  would  forget  in  five  minutes  termi- 
nates in  some  mysterious  lameness  which  confines 
our  poor  sibyl  for  months. 

"  The  young  American  girl  of  our  times  is  a  crea- 
ture who  has  not  a  particle  of  vitality  to  spare,  —  no 
reserved  stock  of  force  to  draw  upon  in  cases  of 
family  exigency.  She  is  exquisitely  strung,  she  is 
cultivated,  she  is  refined ;  but  she  is  too  nervous,  too 
wiry,  too  sensitive,  —  she  burns  away  too  fast;  only 


132  The  Chimney-Comer. 

the  easiest  of  circumstances,  the  most  watchful  of 
care  and  nursing,  can  keep  her  within  the  limits  of 
comfortable  health  ;  and  yet  this  is  the  creature  who 
must  undertake  family  life  in  a  country  where  it  is 
next  to  an  absolute  impossibility  to  have  permanent 
domestics.  Frequent  change,  occasional  entire  break- 
downs, must  be  the  lot  of  the  majority  of  housekeep- 
ers, —  particularly  those  who  do  not  live  in  cities." 

"  In  fact,"  said  my  wife,  "  we  in  America  have  so 
far  got  out  of  the  way  of  a  womanhood  that  has  any 
vigor  of  outline  or  opulence  of  physical  proportions, 
that,  when  we  see  a  woman  made  as  a  woman  ought 
to  be,  she  strikes  us  as  a  monster.  Our  willowy 
girls  are  afraid  of  nothing  so  much  as  growing  stout ; 
and  if  a'  young  lady  begins  to  round  into  proportions 
like  the  women  in  Titian's  and  Giorgione's  pictures, 
she  is  distressed  above  measure,  and  begins  to  make 
secret  inquiries  into  reducing  diet,  and  to  cling  des- 
perately to  the  strongest  corset-lacing  as  her  only 
hope.  It  would  require  one  to  be  better  educated 
than  most  of  our  girls  are,  to  be  willing  to  look  like 
the  Sistine  Madonna  or  the  Venus  of  Milo. 

"  Once  in  a  while  our  Italian  opera-singers  bring  to 
our  shores  those  glorious  physiques  which  formed  the 
inspiration  of  Italian  painters ;  and  then  American 
editors  make  coarse  jokes  about  Barnum's  fat  woman, 
and  avalanches,  and  pretend  to  be  struck  with  terror 
at  such  dimensions. 


The  Transition.  133 

"  We  should  be  better  instructed,  and  consider  that 
Italy  does  us  a  favor,  in  sending  us  specimens,  not 
only  of  higher  styles  of  musical  art,  but  of  a  warmer, 
richer,  and  more  abundant  womanly  life.  The  mag- 
nificent voice  is  only  in  keeping  with  the  magnificent 
proportions  of  the  singer.  A  voice  which  has  no 
grate,  no  strain,  which  flows  without  effort,  —  which 
does  not  labor  eagerly  up  to  a  high  note,  but  alights 
on  it  like  a  bird  from  above,  there  carelessly  warbling 
and  trilling,  —  a  voice  which  then  without  effort  sinks 
into  broad,  rich,  sombre  depths  of  soft,  heavy  chest- 
tone,  —  can  come  only  with  a  physical  nature  at  once 
strong,  wide,  and  fine,  —  from  a  nature  such  as  the 
sun  of  Italy  ripens,  as  he  does  her  golden  grapes, 
filling  it  with  the  new  wine  of  song.'' 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  so  much  for  our  strictures  on  Miss 
Letitia's  letter.  What  comes  next  ? " 

"Here  is  a  correspondent  who  answers  the  ques- 
tion, 'What  shall  we  do  "with  her?' — apropos  to  the 
case  of  the  distressed  young  woman  which  we  con- 
sidered in  our  first  chapter." 

"  And  what  does  he  recommend  ? " 

"  He  tells  us  that  he  should  advise  us  to  make  our 
distressed  woman  Marianne's  housekeeper,  and  to 
send  South  for  three  or  four  contrabands  for  her  to 
train,  and,  with  great  apparent  complacency,  seems 
to  think  that  course  will  solve  all  similar  cases  of 
difficulty." 


134  The  Chimney-Comer.  • 

"That's  quite  a  man's  view  of  the  subject,"  said 
Jennie.  "  They  think  any  woman  who  is  n't  particu- 
larly fitted  to  do  anything  else  can  keep  house." 

"As  if  housekeeping  were  not  the  very  highest 
craft  and  mystery  of  social  life,"  said  I.  "  I  admit 
that  our  sex  speak  too  unadvisedly  on  such  topics, 
and,  being  well  instructed  by  my  household  priest- 
esses, will  humbly  suggest  the  following  ideas  to  my 
correspondent. 

"  ist  A  woman  is  not  of  course  fit  to  be  a  house- 
keeper because  she  is  a  woman  of  good  education  and 
refinement. 

"  2d.  If  she  were,  a  family  with  young  children  in 
it  is  not  the  proper  place  to  establish  a  school  for 
untaught  contrabands,  however  desirable  their  train- 
ing may  be. 

"  A  woman  of  good  education  and  good  common 
sense  may  learn  to  be  a  good  housekeeper,  as  she 
learns  any  trade,  by  going  into  a  good  family  and 
practising  first  one  and  then  another  branch  of  the 
business,  till  finally  she  shall  acquire  the  comprehen- 
sive knowedge  to  direct  all. 

"  The  next  letter  I  will  read. 

"  '  DEAR  MR.  CROWFIELD,  —  Your  papers  relating 
to  the  domestic  problem  have  touched  upon  a  diffi- 
culty which  threatens  to  become  a  matter  of  life  and 
death  with  me. 


The  Transition.  135 


" '  I  am  a  young  man,  with  good  health,  good 
courage,  and  good  prospects.  I  have,  for  a  young 
man,  a  fair  income,  and  a  prospect  of  its  increase. 
But  my  business  requires  me  to  reside  in  a  country 
town  near  a  great  manufacturing  city.  The  demand 
for  labor  there  has  made  such  a  drain  on  the  female 
population  of  the  vicinity,  that  it  seems,  for  a  great 
part  of  the  time,  impossible  to  keep  any  servants  at 
all ;  and  what  we  can  hire  are  of  the  poorest  quality, 
and  want  exorbitant  wages.  My  wife  was  a  well- 
trained  housekeeper,  and  knows  perfectly  all  that 
pertains  to  the  care  of  a  family;  but  she  has  three 
little  children,  and  a  delicate  babe  only  a  few  weeks 
old  ;  and  can  any  one  woman  do  all  that  is  needed 
for  such  a  household  ?  Something  must  be  trusted  to 
servants ;  and  what  is  thus  trusted  brings  such  con- 
fusion and  waste  and  dirt  into  our  house,  that  the 
poor  woman  is  constantly  distraught  between  the 
disgust  of  having  them  and  the  utter  impossibility  of 
doing  without  them. 

"  '  Now  it  has  been  suggested  that  we  remedy  the 
trouble  by  paying  higher  wages ;  but  I  find  that  for 
the  very  highest  wages  I  secure  only  the  most  mis- 
erable service ;  and  yet,  poor  as  it  is,  we  are  obliged 
to  put  up  with  it,  because  there  is  an  amount  of  work 
to  be  done  in  our  family  that  is  absolutely  beyond  my 
wife's  strength. 


136  The  Chimney-Corner. 

" '  I  see  her  health  wearing  away  under  these  trials, 
her  life  made  a  burden  ;  I  feel  no  power  to  help  her ; 
and  I  ask  you,  Mr.  Crowfield,  What  are  we  to  do? 
What  is  to  become  of  family  life  in  this  country  ? 
" '  Yours  truly, 

"  '  A  YOUNG  FAMILY  MAN.' 

"My  friend's  letter,"  said  I,  "touches  upon  the  very 
hinge  of  the  difficulty  of  domestic  life  with  the  present 
generation. 

"  The  real,  vital  difficulty,  after  all,  in  our  American 
life  is,  that  our  country  is  so  wide,  so  various,  so 
abounding  in  the  richest  fields  of  enterprise,  that  in 
every  direction  the  cry  is  of  the  plenteousness  of  the 
harvest  and  the  fewness  of  the  laborers.  In  short, 
there  really  are  not  laborers  enough  to  do  the  work  of 
the  country. 

"  Since  the  war  has  thrown  the  whole  South  open 
to  the  competition  of  free  labor,  the  demand  for 
workers  is  doubled  and  trebled.  Manufactories  of  all 
sorts  are  enlarging  their  borders,  increasing  their  ma- 
chinery, and  calling  for  more  hands.  Every  article  of 
living  is  demanded  with  an  imperativeness  and  over  an 
extent  of  territory  which  set  at  once  additional  thou- 
sands to  the  task  of  production.  Instead  of  being 
easier  to  find  hands  to  execute  in  all  branches  of  use- 
ful labor,  it  is  likely  to  grow  every  year  more  difficult, 


The  Transition.  137 

as  new  departments  of  manufacture  and  trade  divide 
the  workers.  The  price  of  labor,  even  now  higher  in 
this  country  than  in  any  other,  will  rise  still  higher, 
and  thus  complicate  still  more  the  problem  of  domes- 
tic life.  Even  if  a  reasonable  quota  of  intelligent 
women  choose  domestic  service,  the  demand  will  be 
increasingly  beyond  the  supply." 

"  And  what  have  you  to  say  to  this,"  said  my  wife, 
"  seeing  you  cannot  stop  the  prosperity  of  the  coun- 
try?" 

"  Simply  this,  —  that  communities  will  be  driven  to 
organize,  as  they  now  do  in  Europe,  to  lessen  the 
labors  of  individual  families  by  having  some  of  the 
present  domestic  tasks  done  out  of  the  house. 

"  In  France,  for  example,  no  housekeeper  counts 
either  washing,  ironing,  or  bread-making  as  pvt  of 
her  domestic  cares.  All  the  family  washing  goes  out 
to  a  laundry ;  and  being  attended  to  by  those  who 
make  that  department  of  labor  a  specialty,  it  comes 
home  in  refreshingly  beautiful  order. 

"  We  in  America,  though  we  pride  ourselves  on  our 
Yankee  thrift,  are  far  behind  the  French  in  domestic 
economy.  If  all  the  families  of  a  neighborhood 
should  put  together  the  sums  they  separately  spend  in 
buying  or  fitting  up  and  keeping  in  repair  tubs,  boil- 
ers, and  other  accommodations  for  washing,  all  that 
is  consumed  or  wasted  in  soap,  starch,  bluing,  fuel, 


138  The  Chimney-Comer. 

together  with  the  wages  and  board  of  an  extra  servant, 
the  aggregate  would  suffice  to  fit  up  a  neighborhood 
laundry,  where  one  or  two  capable  women  could  do 
easily  and  well  what  ten  or  fifteen  women  now  do 
painfully  and  ill,  and  to  the  confusion  and  derange- 
ment of  all  other  family  processes. 

"  The  model  laundries  for  the  poor  in  London  had 
facilities  which  would  enable  a  woman  to  do  both  the 
washing  and  ironing  of  a  small  family  in  from  two 
to  three  hours,  and  were  so  arranged  that  a  very  few 
women  could  with  ease  do  the  work  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. 

"  But  in  the  absence  of  an  establishment  of  this 
sort,  the  housekeepers  of  a  country  village  might  help 
themselves  very  much  by  owning  a  mangle  in  com- 
mon, to  which  all  the  heavier  parts  of  the  ironing 
could  be  sent.  American  ingenuity  has  greatly  im- 
proved the  machinery  of  the  mangle.  It  is  no  longer 
the  heavy,  cumbersome  structure  that  it  used  to  be  in 
the  Old  World,  but  a  compact,  neat  piece  of  appa- 
ratus, made  in  three  or  four  different  sizes  to  suit  dif- 
ferent-sized apartments. 

"  Mr.  H.  F.  Bond  of  Waltham,  Massachusetts,  now 
manufactures  these  articles,  and  sends  them  to  all 
parts  of  the  country.  The  smallest  of  them  does  not 
take  up  much  more  room  than  a  sewing-machine,  can 
be  turned  by  a  boy  of  ten  or  twelve,  and  thus  in  the 


The  Transition.  139 

course  of  an  hour  or  two  the  heaviest  and  most  fa- 
tiguing part  of  a  family  ironing  may  be  accomplished. 

"  I  should  certainly  advise  the  'Young  Family  Man' 
with  a  delicate  wife  and  uncertain  domestic  help  to 
fortify  his  kitchen  with  one  of  these  fixtures. 

"  But  after  all,  I  still  say  that  the  quarter  to  which  I 
look  for  the  solution  of  the  American  problem  of  do- 
mestic life  is  a  wise  use  of  the  principle  of  associa- 
tion. 

"  The  future  model  village  of  New  England,  as  I 
see  it,  shall  have  for  the  use  of  its  inhabitants  not 
merely  a  town  lyceum-hall  and  a  town  library,  but  a 
town  laundry,  fitted  up  with  conveniences  such  as  no 
private  house  can  afford,  and  paying  a  price  to  the 
operators  which  will  enable  them  to  command  an 
excellence  of  work  such  as  private  families  seldom 
realize.  It  will  also  have  a  town  bakery,  where  the 
best  of  family  bread,  white,  brown,  and  of  all  grains, 
shall  be  compounded  ;  and  lastly  a  town  cook-shop, 
where  soup  and  meats  may  be  bought,  ready  for  the 
table.  Those  of  us  who  have  kept  house  abroad 
remember  the  ease  with  which  our  foreign  establish- 
ments were  carried  on.  A  suite  of  elegant  apartments, 
a  courier,  and  one  female  servant,  were  the  foundation 
of  domestic  life.  Our  courier  boarded  us  at  a  mod- 
erate expense,  and  the  servant  took  care  of  our  rooms. 
Punctually  to  the  dinner-hour  every  day,  our  dinner 


140  The  Chimney-Corner. 

came  in  on  the  head  of  a  porter  from  a  neighborin| 
cook-shop.     A  large  chest  lined  with  tin,  and  ke 
warm  by  a  tiny  charcoal  stove  in  the  centre,  beii 
deposited  in  an  ante-room,  from  it  came  forth,  fii 
soup,  then  fish,  then  roast  of  various  names,  and  lastly 
pastry  and  confections,  —  far  more  courses  than  ar 
reasonable  Christian  needs   to  keep  him  in  healtl 
condition ;  and  dinner  being  over,  our  box   with   it 
debris  went  out  of  the  house,  leaving  a  clear  field. 

"  Now  I  put  it  to  the  distressed  '  Young  Famil 
Man  '  whether  these  three  institutions  of  a  bakery, 
cook-shop,  and  a  laundry,  in  the  village  where  he  liv< 
would  not  virtually  annihilate  his  household  cares,  at 
restore  peace  and  comfort  to  his  now  distn 
family. 

"  There  really  is  no  more  reason  why  every  family 
should  make  its  own  bread  than  its  own  butter,  — 
why  every  family  should  do  its  own  washing  and  iron- 
ing than  its  own  tailoring  or  mantua-making.  In 
France,  where  certainly  the  arts  of  economy  are  well 
studied,  there  is  some  specialty  for  many  domestic 
needs  for  which  we  keep  servants.  The  beautiful  in- 
laid floors  are  kept  waxed  and  glossy  by  a  professional 
gentleman  who  wears  a  brush  on  his  foot-sole,  skates 
gracefully  over  the  surface,  and,  leaving  all  right,  de- 
parteth.  Many  families,  each  paying  a  small  sum, 
keep  this  servant  in  common. 


The  Transition.  141 

"  Now  if  ever  there  was  a  community  which  needed 
to  study  the  art  of  living,  it  is  our  American  one  ;  for 
at  present,  domestic  life  is  so  wearing  and  so  oppres- 
sive as  seriously  to  affect  health  and  happiness. 
Whatever  has  been  done  abroad  in  the  way  of  comfort 
and  convenience  can  be  done  here ;  and  the  first 
neighborhood  that  shall  set  the  example  of  dividing 
the  tasks  and  burdens  of  life  by  the  judicious  use  of 
the  principle  of  association  will  initiate  a  most  impor- 
tant step  in  the  way  of  national  happiness  and  pros- 
perity. 

"  My  solution,  then,  of  the  domestic  problem  may 
be  formulized  as  follows  :  — 

"  i  st.  That  women  make  self-helpfulness  and  family 
helpfulness  fashionable,  and  every  woman  use  her 
muscles  daily  in  enough  household  work  to  give  her 
a  good  digestion. 

"  2d.  That  the  situation  of  a  domestic  be  made  so 
respectable  and  respected  that  well-educated  American 
women  shall  be  induced  to  take  it  as  a  training-school 
for  their  future  family  life. 

"  3d.  That  families  by  association  lighten  the  multi- 
farious labors  of  the  domestic  sphere. 

"  All  of  which  I  humbly  submit  to  the  good  sense 
and  enterprise  of  American  readers  and  workers." 


VI. 

BODILY  RELIGION :    A  SERMON   ON   GOOD 
HEALTH. 

ONE  of  our  recent  writers  has  said,  that  "good 
health  is  physical  religion  " ;  and  it  is  a  saying 
worthy  to  be  printed  in  golden  letters.  But  good 
health  being  physical  religion,  it  fully  shares  that 
indifference  with  which  the  human  race  regards  things 
confessedly  the  most  important.  The  neglect  of  the 
soul  is  the  trite  theme  of  all  religious  teachers ;  and, 
next  to  their  souls,  there  is  nothing  that  people  neg- 
lect so  much  as  their  bodies.  Every  person  ought  to 
be  perfectly  healthy,  just  as  everybody  ought  to  be 
perfectly  religious  ;  but,  in  point  of  fact,  the  greater 
part  of  mankind  are  so  far  from  perfect  moral  or  phys- 
ical religion  that  they  cannot  even  form  a  conception 
of  the  blessing  beyond  them. 

The  mass  of  good,  well-meaning  Christians  are  not 
yet  advanced  enough  to  guess  at  the  change  which  a 
perfect  fidelity  to  Christ's  spirit  and  precepts  would 
produce  in  them.  And  the  majority  of  people  who 


Bodily  Religion.  143 

call  themselves  well,  because  they  are  not,  at  present, 
upon  any  particular  doctor's  list,  are  not  within  sight 
of  what  perfect  health  would  be.  That  fulness  of  life, 
that  vigorous  tone,  and  that  elastic  cheerfulness,  which 
make  the  mere  fact  of  existence  a  luxury,  that  supple- 
ness which  carries  one  like  a  well-built  boat  over 
every  wave  of  unfavorable  chance,  —  these  are  attri- 
butes of  the  perfect  health  seldom  enjoyed.  We  see 
them  in  young  children,  in  animals,  and  now  and 
then,  but  rarely,  in  some  adult  human  being,  who  has 
preserved  intact  the  religion  of  the  body  through 
all  opposing  influences.  Perfect  health  supposes 
not  a  state  of  mere  quiescence,  but  of  positive 
enjoyment  in  living.  See  that  little  fellow,  as  his 
nurse  ^urns  him  out  in  the  morning,  fresh  from  his 
bath,  his  hair  newly  curled,  and  his  cheeks  polished 
like  apples.  Every  step  is  a  spring  or  a  dance ;  he 
runs,  he  laughs,  he  shouts,  his  face  breaks  into  a  thou- 
sand dimpling  smiles  at  a  word.  His  breakfast  of 
plain  bread  and  milk  is  swallowed  with  an  eager  and 
incredible  delight,  —  it  is  so  good  that  he  stops  to 
laugh  or  thump  the  table  now  and  then  in  expression 
of  his  ecstasy.  All  day  long  he  runs  and  frisks  and 
plays ;  and  when  at  night  the  little  head  seeks  the 
pillow,  down  go  the  eye-curtains,  and  sleep  comes 
without  a  dream.  In  the  morning  his  first  note  is  a 
laugh  and  a  crow,  as  he  sits  up  in  his  crib  and  tries 


144  The  CJiiinncy-Corner. 

to  pull  papa's  eyes  open  with  his  fat  fingers.  He  is 
an  embodied  joy,  —  he  is  sunshine  and  music  and 
laughter  for  all- the  house.  With  what  a 'magnificent 
generosity  does  the  Author  of  life  endow  a  little  mor- 
tal pilgrim  in  giving  him  at  the  outset  of  his  career 
such  a  body  as  this  !  How  miserable  it  is  to  look  for- 
ward twenty  years,  when  the  same  child,  now  grown 
a  man,  wakes  in  the  morning  with  a  dull,  heavy  head, 
the  consequence  of  smoking  and  studying  till  twelve 
or  one  the  night  before  ;  when  he  rises  languidly  to  a 
late  breakfast,  and  turns  from  this,  and  tries  that,  — 
wants  a  devilled  bone,  or  a  cutlet  with  Worcestershire 
sauce,  to  make  eating  possible  ;  and  then,  with  slow 
and  plodding  step,  finds  his  way  to  his  office  and  his 
books.  Verily  the  shades  of  the  prison-house  gather 
round  the  growing  boy ;  for,  surely,  no  one  will  deny 
that  life  often  begins  with  health  little  less  perfect 
than  that  of  the  angels. 

But  the  man  who  habitually  wakes  sodden,  head- 
achy, and  a  little  stupid,  and  who  needs  a  cup  of 
strong  coffee  and  various  stimulating  condiments  to 
coax  his  bodily  system  into  something  like  fair  work- 
ing order,  does  not  suppose  he  is  out  of  health.  He 
says,  "  Very  well,  I  thank  you,"  to  your  inquiries,  — 
merely  because  he  has  entirely  forgotten  what  good 
health  is.  He  is  well,  not  because  of  any  particular 
pleasure  in  physical  existence,  but  well  simply  because 


Bodily  Religion.  145 

he  is  not  a  subject  for  prescriptions.  Yet  there  is  no 
store  of  vitality,  no  buoyancy,  no  superabundant  vigor, 
to  resist  the  strain  and  pressure  to  which  life  puts 
him.  A  checked  perspiration,  a  draught  of  air  ill- 
timed,  a  crisis  of  perplexing  business  or  care,  and  he 
is  down  with  a  bilious  attack,  or  an  influenza,  and 
subject  to  doctors'  orders  for  an  indefinite  period. 
And  if  the  case  be  so  with  men,  how  is  it  with  wo 
men  ?  How  many  women  have  at  maturity  the  keeu 
appetite,  the  joyous  love  of.Hfe  and  motion,  the  elas- 
ticity and  sense  of  physical  delight  in  existence,  that 
little  children  have  ?  How  many  have  any  superabun- 
dance of  vitality  with  which  to  meet  the  wear  and 
strain  of  life  ?  And  yet  they  call  themselves  well. 

But  is  it  possible,  in  maturity,  to  have  the  joyful 
fulness  of  the  life  of  childhood?  Experience  has 
shown  that  the  delicious  freshness  of  this  dawning 
hour  may  be  preserved  even  to  mid-day,  and  may  be 
brought  back  and  restored  after  it  has  been  for  years 
a  stranger.  Nature,  though  a  severe  disciplinarian, 
is  still,  in  many  respects,  most  patient  and  easy  to 
be  entreated,  and  meets  any  repentant  movement  of 
her  prodigal  children  with  wonderful  condescension. 
Take  Bulwer's  account  of  the  first  few  weeks  of  his 
sojourn  at  Malvern,  and  you  will  read,  in  very  elegant 
English,  the  story  of  an  experience  of  pleasure  which 
has  surprised  and  delighted  many  a  patient  at  a  water- 
7  J 


146  The  Ckimnty-Comer. 

cure.  The  return  to  the  great  primitive  elements  of 
health  —  water,  air,  and  simple  food,  with  a  regular 
system  of  exercise  —  has  brought  to  many  a  jaded, 
weary,  worn-down  human  being  the  elastic  spirits,  the 
simple,  eager  appetite,  the  sound  sleep,  of  a  little 
child.  Hence,  the  rude  huts  and  chalets  of  the  peas- 
ant Priessnitz  were  crowded  with  battered  dukes  and 
princesses,  and  notables  of  every  degree,  who  came 
from  the  hot,  enervating  luxury  which  had  drained 
them  of  existence  to  find  a  keener  pleasure  in  peas- 
ants' bread  under  peasants'  roofs  than  in  soft  raiment 
and  palaces.  No  arts  of  French  cookery  can  possibly 
make  anything  taste  so  well  to  a  feeble  and  palled 
appetite  as  plain  brown  bread  and  milk  taste  to  a 
hungry  water-cure  patient,  fresh  from  bath  and  exer- 
cise. 

If  the  water-cure  had  done  nothing  more  than  es- 
tablish the  fact  that  the  glow  and  joyousness  of  early 
life  are  things  which  may  be  restored  after  having 
been  once  wasted,  it  would  have  done  a  good  work. 
For  if  Nature  is  so  forgiving  to  those  who  have  once 
lost  or  have  squandered  her  treasures,  what  may  not 
be  hoped  for  us  if  we  can  learn  the  art  of  never  losing 
the  first  health  of  childhood  ?  And  though  with  us, 
who  have  passed  to  maturity,  it  may  be  too  late  for 
the  blessing,  cannot  something  be  done  for  the  chil- 
dren who  are  yet  to  come  after  us  ? 


Bodily  Religion.  147 

Why  is  the  first  hearth  of  childhood  lost  ?  Is  it  not 
the  answer,  that  childhood  is  the  only  period  of  life 
in  which  bodily  health  is  made  a  prominent  object  ? 
Take  our  pretty  boy,  with  cheeks  like  apples,  who 
started  in  life  with  a  hop,  skip,  and  dance,  —  to  whom 
laughter  was  like  breathing,  and  who  was  enraptured 
with  plain  bread  and  milk,  —  how  did  he  grow  into 
the  man  who  wakes  so  languid  and  dull,  who  wants 
strong  coffee  and  Worcestershire  sauce  to  make  his 
breakfast  go  down  ?  When  and  where  did  he  drop 
the  invaluable  talisman  that  once  made  everything 
look  brighter  and  taste  better  to  him,  however  rude 
and  simple,  than  now  do  the  most  elaborate  combi- 
nations ?  What  is  the  boy's  history  ?  Why,  for  the 
first  seven  years  of  his  life  his  body  is  made  of  some 
account.  It  is  watched,  cared  for,  dieted,  disciplined, 
fed  with  fresh  air,  and  left  to  grow  and  develop  like 
a  thrifty  plant.  But  from  the  time  school  education 
begins,  the  body  is  steadily  ignored,  and  left  to  take 
care  of  itself. 

The  boy  is  made  to  sit  six  hours  a  day  in  a  close, 
hot  room,  breathing  impure  air,  putting  the  brain  and 
the  nervous  system  upon  a  constant  strain,  while  the 
muscular  system  is  repressed  to  an  unnatural  quiet 
During  the  six  hours,  perhaps  twenty  minutes  are 
allowed  for  all  that  play  of  the  muscles  which,  up  to 
this  time,  has  been  the  constant  habit  of  his  life. 


148  The  Chimney-Corner. 

After  this  he  is  sent  home  with  books,  slate,  and 
lessons  to  occupy  an  hour  or  two  more  in  preparing 
for  the  next  day.  In  the  whole  of  this  time  there  is 
no  kind  of  effort  to  train  the  physical  system  by  ap- 
propriate exercise.  Something  of  the  sort  was  at- 
tempted years  ago  in  the  infant  schools,  but  soon 
given  up ;  and  now,  from  the  time  study  first  begins, 
the  muscles  are  ignored  in  all  primary  schools.  One 
of  the  first  results  is  the  loss  of  that  animal  vigor 
which  formerly  made  the  boy  love  motion  for  its  own 
sake.  Even  in  his  leisure  hours  he  no  longer  leaps 
and  runs  as  he  used  to ;  he  learns  to  sit  still,  and  by 
and  by  sitting  and  lounging  come  to  be  the  habit,  and 
vigorous  motion  the  exception,  for  most  of  the  hours 
of  the  day.  The  education  thus  begun  goes  on  from 
primary  to  high  school,  from  high  school  to  college, 
from  college  through  professional  studies  of  law,  med- 
icine, or  theology,  with  this  steady  contempt  for  the 
body,  with  no  provision  for  its  culture,  training,  or 
development,  but  rather  a  direct  and  evident  provision 
for  its  deterioration  and  decay. 

The  want  of  suitable  ventilation  in  school-rooms, 
recitation-rooms,  lecture-rooms,  offices,  court-rooms, 
conference-rooms,  and  vestries,  where  young  students 
of  law,  medicine,  and  theology  acquire  their  earlier 
practice,  is  something  simply  appalling.  Of  itself  it 
would  answer  for  men  the  question,  why  so  many 


Bodily  Religion.  149 

thousand  glad,  active  children  come  to  a  middle  life 
without  joy,  —  a  life  whose  best  estate  is  a  sort  of 
slow,  plodding  endurance.  The  despite  and  hatred 
which  most  men  seem  to  feel  for  God's  gift  of  fresh 
air,  and  their  resolution  to  breathe  as  little  of  it  as 
possible,  could  only  come  from  a  long  course  of  edu- 
cation, in  which  they  have  been  accustomed  to  live 
without  it.  Let  any  one  notice  the  conduct  of  our 
American  people  travelling  in  railroad  cars.  We  will 
suppose  that  about  half  of  them  are  what  might  be 
called  well-educated  people,  who  have  learned  in 
books,  or  otherwise,  that  the  air  breathed  from  the 
lungs  is  laden  with  impurities,  —  that  it  is  noxious 
and  poisonous;  and  yet,  travel  with  these' people  half 
a  day,  and  you  would  suppose  from  their  actions  that 
they  considered  the  external  air  as  a  poison  created 
expressly  to  injure  them,  and  that  the  only  course  of 
safety  lay  in  keeping  the  cars  hermetically  sealed,  and 
breathing  over  and  over  the  vapor  from  each  others' 
lungs.  If  a  person  in  despair  at  the  intolerable  foul- 
ness raises  a  window,  what  frowns  from  all  the  neigh- 
boring seats,  especially  from  great  rough-coated  men, 
who  always  seem  the  first  to  be  apprehensive !  The 
request  to  "put  down  that  window"  is  almost  sure  to 
follow  a  moment  or  two  of  fresh  air.  In  vain  have 
rows  of  ventilators  been  put  in  the  tops  of  some  of  the 
cars,  for  conductors  and  passengers  are  both  of  one 


150  The  Chimney-Corner. 

mind,  that  these  ventilators  are  inlets  of  danger,  and 
must  be  kept  carefully  closed. 

Railroad  travelling  in  America  is  systematically, 
and  one  would  think  carefully,  arranged  so  as  to  vio- 
late every  possible  law  of  health.  The  old  rule  to 
keep  the  head  cool  and  the  feet  warm  is  precisely 
reversed.  A  red-hot  stove  heats  the  upper  stratum 
of  air  to  oppression,  while  a  stream  of  cold  air  is  con- 
stantly circulating  about  the  lower  extremities.  The 
most  indigestible  and  unhealthy  substances  conceiv- 
able are  generally  sold  in  the  cars  or  at  way-stations 
for  the  confusion  and  distress  of  the  stomach.  Rarely 
can  a  traveller  obtain  so  innocent  a  thing  as  a  plain 
good  sandwich  of  bread  and  meat,  while  pie,  cake, 
doughnuts,  and  all  other  culinary  atrocities,  are  al- 
most forced  upon  him  at  every  stopping-place.  In 
France,  England,  and  Germany  the  railroad  cars  are 
perfectly  ventilated ;  the  feet  are  kept  warm  by  flat 
cases  filled  with  hot  water  and  covered  with  carpet, 
and  answering  the  double  purpose  of  warming  the  feet 
and  diffusing  an  agreeable  temperature  through  the 
car,  without  burning  away  the  vitality  of  the  air ; 
while  the  arrangements  at  the  refreshment-rooms  pro- 
vide for  the  passenger  as  wholesome  and  well-served  a 
meal  of  healthy,  nutritious  food  as  could  be  obtained 
in  any  home  circle. 

What  are  we  to  infer  concerning  the  home  habits 


Bodily  Religion.  151 

of  a  nation  of  men  who  so  resignedly  allow  their 
bodies  to  be  poisoned  and  maltreated  in  travelling 
over  such  an  extent  of  territory  as  is  covered  by  our 
railroad  lines  ?  Does  it  not  show  that  foul  air  and 
improper  food  are  too  much  matters  of  course  to  ex- 
cite attention  ?  As  a  writer  in  "  The  Nation  "  has 
lately  remarked,  it  is  simply  and  only  because  the 
American  nation  like  to  have  unventilated  cars,  and 
to  be  fed  on  pie  and  coffee  at  stopping-places,  that 
nothing  better  is  known  to  our  travellers  ;  if  there 
were  any  marked  dislike  of  such  a  state  of  things  on 
the  part  of  the  people,  it  would  not  exist.  We  have 
wealth  enough,  and  enterprise  enough,  and  ingenuity 
enough,  in  our  American  nation,  to  compass  with 
wonderful  rapidity  any  end  that  really  seems  to  us 
desirable.  An  army  was  improvised  when  an  army 
was  wanted,  —  and  an  army  more  perfectly  equipped, 
more  bountifully  fed,  than  so  great  a  body  of  men 
ever  was  before.  Hospitals,  Sanitary  Commissions, 
and  Christian  Commissions  all  arose  out  of  the  simple 
conviction  of  the  American  people  that  they  must 
arise.  If  the  American  people  were  equally  con- 
vinced that  foul  air  was  a  poison,  —  that  to  have  cold 
feet  and  hot  heads  was  to  invite  an  attack  of  illness, 
—  that  maple-sugar,  pop-corn,  peppermint  candy,  pie, 
doughnuts,  and  peanuts  are  not  diet  for  reasonable 
beings,  —  they  would  have  railroad  accommodations 
very  different  from  those  now  in  existence. 


152  The  Chimney-Comer. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  foul  air  of  court-rooms. 
What  better  illustration  could  be  given  of  the  utter 
contempt  with  which  the  laws  of  bodily  health  are 
treated,  than  the  condition  of  these  places?  Our 
lawyers  are  our  highly  educated  men.  They  have 
been  through  high-school  and  college  training,  they 
have  learned  the  properties  of  oxygen,  nitrogen,  and 
carbonic-acid  gas,  and  have  seen  a  mouse  die  under 
an  exhausted  receiver,  and  of  course  they  know  that 
foul,  unventilated  rooms  are  bad  for  the  health  ;  and 
yet  generation  after  generation  of  men  so  taught  and 
trained  will  spend  the  greater  part  of  their  lives  in 
rooms  notorious  for  their  close  and  impure  air,  with- 
out so  much  as  an  attempt  to  remedy  the  evil.  A 
well-ventilated  court-room  is  a  four-leaved  clover 
among  court-rooms.  Young  men  are  constantly  los- 
ing their  health  at  the  bar ;  lung  diseases,  dyspepsia, 
follow  them  up,  gradually  sapping  their  vitality. 
Some  of  the  brightest  ornaments  of  the  profession 
have  actually  fallen  dead  as  they  stood  pleading, — 
victims  of  the  fearful  pressure  of  poisonous  and 
heated  air  upon  the  excited  brain.  The  deaths  of 
Salmon  P.  Chase  of  Portland,  uncle  of  our  present 
Chief  Justice,  and  of  Ezekiel  Webster,  the  brother 
of  our  great  statesman,  are  memorable  examples  of 
the  calamitous  effects  of  the  errors  dwelt  upon  ;  and 
yet,  strange  to  say,  nothing  efficient  is  done  to  mend 


Bodily  Religion.  153 

these  errors,  and  give  the  body  an  equal  chance  with 
the  mind  in  the  pressure  of  the  world's  affairs. 

But  churches,  lecture-rooms,  and  vestries,  and  all 
buildings  devoted  especially  to  the  good  of  the  soul, 
are  equally  witness  of  the  mind's  disdain  of  the  body's 
needs,  and  the  body's  consequent  revenge  upon  the 
soul.  In  how  many  of  these  places  has  the  question 
of  a  thorough  provision  of  fresh  air  been  even  con- 
sidered? People  would  never  think  of  bringing  a 
thousand  persons  into  a  desert  place,  and  keeping 
them  there,  without  making  preparations  to  feed  them. 
Bread  and  buttefr,  potatoes  and  meat,  must  plainly  be 
found  for  them  ;  but  a  thousand  human  beings  are 
put  into  a  building  to  remain  a  given  number  of 
hours,  and  no  one  asks  the  question  whether  means 
exist  for  giving  each  one  the  quantum  of  fresh  air 
needed  for  his  circulation,  and  these  thousand  victims 
will  consent  to  be  slowly  poisoned,  gasping,  sweating, 
getting  red  in  the  face,  with  confused  and  sleepy 
brains,  while  a  minister  with  a  yet  redder  face  and  a 
more  oppressed  brain  struggles  and  wrestles,  through 
the  hot,  seething  vapors,  to  make  clear  to  them  the 
mysteries  of  faith.  How  many  churches  are  there 
that  for  six  or  eight  months  in  the  year  are  never 
ventilated  at  all,  except  by  the  accidentaf  opening  of 
doors  ?  The  foul  air  generated  by  one  congregation 
is  locked  up  by  the  sexton  for  the  use  of  the  next 
7* 


154  The  Cldmney-Corner. 

assembly ;  and  so  gathers  and  gathers  from  week  to 
week,  and  month  to  month,  while  devout  persons 
upbraid  themselves,  and  are  ready  to  tear  their  hair, 
because  they  always  feel  stupid  and  sleepy  in  church. 
The  proper  ventilation  of  their  churches  and  vestries 
would  remove  that  spiritual  deadness  of  which  their 
prayers  and  hymns  complain.  A  man  hoeing  his 
corn  out  on  a  breezy  hillside  is  bright  and  alert,  his 
mind  works  clearly,  and  he  feels  interested  in  religion, 
and  thinks  of  many  a  thing  that  might  be  said  at  the 
prayer-meeting  at  night.  But  at  night,  when  he  sits 
down  in  a  little  room  where  the  air  reeks  with  the 
vapor  of  his  neighbor's  breath  and  the  smoke  of 
kerosene  lamps,  he  finds  himself  suddenly  dull  and 
drowsy,  —  without  emotion,  without  thought,  without 
feeling,  —  and  he  rises  and  reproaches  himself  for 
this  state  of  things.  He  calls  upon  his  soul  and  all 
that  is  within  him  to  bless  the  Lord  ;  but  the  indig- 
nant body,  abused,  insulted,  ignored,  takes  the  soul 
by  the  throat,  and  says,  "  If  you  won't  let  me  have  a 
good  time,  neither  shall  you."  Revivals  of  religion, 
with  ministers  and  with  those  people  whose  moral  or- 
ganization leads  them  to  take  most  interest  in  them, 
often  end  in  periods  of  bodily  ill-health  and  depres- 
sion. But  is  there  any  need  of  this  ?  Suppose  that 
a  revival  of  religion  required,  as  -a  formula,  that  all 
the  members  of  a  given  congregation  should  daily 


Bodily  Religion.  15  5 

take  a  minute  dose  of  arsenic  in  concert,  —  we  should 
not  be  surprised  after  a  while  to  hear  of  various  ill 
effects  therefrom ;  and,  as  vestries  and  lecture -rooms 
are  now  arranged,  a  daily  prayer-meeting  is  often 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  number  of  persons 
spending  half  an  hour  a  day  breathing  poison  from 
each  other's  lungs.  There  is  not  only  no  need  of 
this,  but,  on  the  contrary,  a  good  supply  of  pure  air 
would  make  the  daily  prayer-meeting  far  more  enjoya- 
ble. The  body,  if  allowed  the  slighest  degree  of  fair 
play,  so  far  from  being  a  contumacious  infidel  and 
opposer,  becomes  a  very  fair  Christian  helper,  and, 
instead  of  throttling  the  soul,  gives  it  wings  to  rise  to 
celestial  regions. 

This  branch  of  our  subject  we  will  quit  with  one 
significant  anecdote.  A  certain  rural  church  was 
somewhat  famous  for  its  picturesque  Gothic  archi- 
tecture, and  equally  famous  for  its  sleepy  atmosphere, 
the  rules  of  Gothic  symmetry  requiring  very  small 
windows,  which  could  be  only  partially  opened. 
Everybody  was  affected  alike  in  this  church  ;  minister 
and  people  complained  that  it  was  like  the  enchanted 
ground  in  the  Pilgrim's  Progress.  Do  what  they 
would,  sleep  was  ever  at  their  elbows ;  the  blue,  red, 
and  green  of  the  painted  windows  melted  into  a 
rainbow  dimness  of  hazy  confusion ;  and  ere  they 
were  aware,  they  were  off  on  a  cloud  to  the  land  of 
dreams. 


156  The  Chimney-Corner. 

An  energetic  sister  in  the  church  suggested  the 
inquiry,  whether  it  was  ever  ventilated,  and  discov- 
ered that  it  was  regularly  locked  up  at  the  close  of 
service,  and  remained  so  till  opened  for  the  next 
week.  She  suggested  the  inquiry,  whether  giving  the 
church  a  thorough  airing  on  Saturday  would  not 
improve  the  Sunday  services ;  but  nobody  acted  on 
her  suggestion.  Finally,  she  borrowed  the  sexton's 
key  one  Saturday  night,  and  went  into  the  church  and 
opened  all  the  windows  herself,  and  let  them  remain 
so  for  the  night.  The  next  day  everybody  remarked 
the  improved  comfort  of  the  church,  and  wondered 
what  had  produced  the  change.  Nevertheless,  when 
it  was  discovered,  it  was  not  deemed  a  matter  of 
enough  importance  to  call  for  an  order  on  the  sexton 
to  perpetuate  the  improvement. 

The  ventilation  of  private  dwellings  in  this  country 
is  such  as  might  be  expected  from  that  entire  indiffer- 
ence to  the  laws  of  health  manifested  in  public  estab- 
lishments. Let  a  person  travel  in  private  conveyance 
up  through  the  valley  of  the  Connecticut,  and  stop  for 
a  night  at  the  taverns  which  he  will  usually  find  at 
the  end  of  each  day's  stage.  The  bed-chamber  into 
which  he  will  be  ushered  will  be  the  concentration  ot 
all  forms  of  bad  air.  The  house  is  redolent  of  the 
vegetables  in  the  cellar,  —  cabbages,  turnips,  and" 
potatoes  ;  and  this  fragrance  is  confined  and  retained 


Bodily  Religion.  157 

by  the  custom  of  closing  the  window-blinds  and  drop- 
ping the  inside  curtains,  so  that  neither  air  nor  stm- 
shine  enters  in  to  purify.  Add  to  this  the  strong 
odor  of  a  new  feather-bed  and  pillows,  and  you  have 
a  combination  of  perfumes  most  appalling  to  a  deli- 
cate sense.  Yet  travellers  take  possession  of  these 
rooms,  sleep  in  them  all  night  without  raising  the 
window  or  opening  the  blinds,  and  leave  them  to  be 
shut  up  for  other  travellers. 

The  spare  chamber  of  many  dwellings  seems  to  be 
an  hermetically  closed  box,  opened  only  twice  a  year, 
for  spring  and  fall  cleaning;  but  for  the  rest  of  the 
time  closed  to  the  sun  and  the  air  of  heaven.  Thrifty 
country  housekeepers  often  adopt  the  custom  of  mak- 
ing their  beds  on  the  instant  after  they  are  -left,  with- 
out airing  the  sheets  and  mattresses ;  and  a  bed  so 
made  gradually  becomes  permeated  with  the  insensi- 
ble emanations  of  the  human  body,  so  as  to  be  a 
steady  corrupter  of  the  atmosphere. 

In  the  winter,  the  windows  are  calked  and  listed, 
the  throat  of  the  chimney  built  up  with  a  tight  brick 
wall,  and  a  close  stove  is  introduced  to  help  burn  out 
the  vitality  of  the  air.  In  a  sitting-room  like  this, 
from  five  to  ten  persons  will  spend  about  eight  months 
of  the  year,  with  no  other  ventilation  than  that  gained 
by  the  casual  opening  and  shutting  of  doors.  Is  it 
any  wonder  that  consumption  every  year  sweeps  away 


158  The  Chimney-Corner. 

its  thousands?  —  that  people  are  suffering  constant 
chronic  ailments,  —  neuralgia,  nervous  dyspepsia,  and 
all  the  host  of  indefinite  bad  feelings  that  rob  life  of 
sweetness  and  flower  and  bloom  ? 

A  recent  writer  raises  the  inquiry,  whether  the  com- 
munity would  not  gain  in  health  by  the  demolition  of 
all  dwelling-houses.  That  is,  he  suggests  the  ques- 
tion, whether  the  evils  from  foul  air  are  not  so  great 
and  so  constant,  that  they  countervail  the  advantages 
of  shelter.  Consumptive  patients  far  gone  have  been 
known  to  be  cured  by  long  journeys,  which  have  re- 
quired them  to  be  day  and  night  in  the  open  air. 
Sleep  under  the  open  heaven,  even  though  the  person 
be  exposed  to  the  various  accidents  of  weather,  has 
often  proyed  a  miraculous  restorer  after  everything 
else  had  failed.  But  surely,  if  simple  fresh  air  is  so 
healing  and  preserving  a  thing,  some  means  might  be 
found  to  keep  the  air  in  a  house  just  as  pure  and  vig- 
orous as  it  is  outside. 

An  article  in  the  May  number  of  "  Harpers'  Maga- 
zine "  presents  drawings  of  a  very  simple  arrangement 
by  which  any  house  can  be  made  thoroughly  self-ven- 
tilating. Ventilation,  as  this  article  shows,  consists 
in  two  things,  —  a  perfect  and  certain  expulsion  from 
the  dwelling  of  all  foul  air  breathed  from  the  lungs  or 
arising  from  any  other  cause,  and  the  constant  supply 
of  pure  air. 


Bodily  Religion.  159 

One  source  of  foul  air  cannot  be  too  much' guarded 
against,  —  we  mean  imperfect  gas-pipes.  A  want  of 
thoroughness  in  execution  is  the  sin  of  our  American 
artisans,  and  very  few  gas-fixtures  are  so  thoroughly 
made  that  more  or  less  gas  does  not  escape  and  min- 
gle with  the  air  of  the  dwelling.  There  are  parlors 
where  plants  cannot  be  made  to  live,  because  the  gas 
kills  them  ;  and  yet  their  occupants  do  not  seem  to 
reflect  that  an  air  in  which  a  plant  cannot  live  must 
be  dangerous  for  a  human  being.  The  very  clemency 
and  long-suffering  of  Nature  to  those  who  persistently 
violate  her  laws  is  one  great  cause  why  men  are,  phys- 
ically speaking,  such  sinners  as  they  are.  If  foul  air 
poisoned  at  once  and  completely,  we  should  have 
well-ventilated  houses,  whatever  else  we  failed  to  have. 
But  because  people  can  go  on  for  weeks,  months,  and 
years,  breathing  poisons,  and  slowly  and  imperceptibly 
lowering  the  tone  of  their  vital  powers,  and  yet  be 
what  they  call  "  pretty  well,  I  thank  you,"  sermons  on 
ventilation  and  fresh  air  go  by  them  as  an  idle  song. 
"  I  don't  see  but  we  are  well  enough,  and  we  never 
took  much  pains  about  these  things.  There 's  air 
enough  gets  into  houses,  of  course.  What  with  doors 
opening  and  windows  occasionally  lifted,  the  air  of 
houses  is  generally  good  enough  " ;  —  and  so  the  mat- 
ter is  dismissed. 

One  of  Heaven's  great  hygienic  teachers   is   now 


160  The  Chimney-Corner. 

abroad  in  the  world,  giving  lessons  on  health  to  the 
children  of  men.  The  cholera  is  like  the  angel 
whom  God  threatened  to  send  as  leader  to  the  rebel- 
lious Israelites.  "  Beware  of  him,  obey  his  voice,  and 
provoke  him  not ;  for  he  will  not  pardon  your  trans- 
gressions." The  advent  of  this  fearful  messenger 
seems  really  to  be  made  necessary  by  the  contempt 
with  which  men  treat  the  physical  laws  of  their  being. 
What  else  could  have  purified  the  dark  places  of  New 
York  ?  What  a  wiping-up  and  reforming  and  cleans- 
ing is  going  before  him  through  the  country  !  At  last 
we  find  that  Nature  is  in  earnest,  and  that  her  laws 
cannot  be  always  ignored  with  impunity.  Poisoned 
air  is  recognized  at  last  as  an  evil,  —  even  although 
the  poison  cannot  be  weighed,  measured,  or  tasted ; 
and  if  all  the  precautions  that  men  are  now  willing  to 
take  could  be  made  perpetual,  the  alarm  would  be  a 
blessing  to  the  world. 

Like  the  principles  of  spiritual  religion,  the  princi- 
ples of  physical  religion  are  few  and  easy  to  be  under- 
stood. An  old  medical  apothegm  personifies  the 
hygienic  forces  as  the  Doctors  Air,  Diet,  Exercise, 
and  Quiet;  and  these  four  will  be  found,  on  reflec- 
tion, to  cover  the  whole  ground  of  what  is  required  to 
preserve  human  health.  A  human  being  whose  lungs 
have  always  been  nourished  by  pure  air,  whose  stom- 
ach has  been  fed  only  by  appropriate  food,  whose 


Bodily  Religion.  161 

muscles  have  been  systematically  trained  by  appropri- 
ate exercises,  and  whose  mind  is  kept  tranquil  by 
faith  in  God  and  a  good  conscience,  has  perfect  phys- 
ical religion.  There  is  a  line  where  physical  religion 
must  necessarily  overlap  spiritual  religion  and  rest 
upon  it.  No  human  being  can  be  assured  of  perfect 
health,  through  all  the  strain  and  wear  and  tear  of 
such  cares  and  such  perplexities  as  life  brings,  without 
the  rest  of  faith  in  God.  An  unsubmissive,  unconfid- 
ing,  unresigned  soul  will  make  vain  the  best  hygienic 
treatment ;  and,  on  the  contrary,  the  most  saintly  re- 
ligious resolution  and  purpose  may  be  defeated  and 
vitiated  by  an  habitual  ignorance  and  disregard  of  the 
laws  of  the  physical  system. 

Perfect  spiritual  religion  cannot  exist  without  perfect 
physical  religion.  Every  flaw  and  defect  in  the  bodily 
system  is  just  so  much  taken  from  the  spiritual  vital- 
ity :  we  are.  commanded  to  glorify  God,  not  simply  in 
our  spirits,  but  in  our  bodies  and  spirits.  The  only  . 
example  of  perfect  manhood  the  world  ever  saw  im- 
presses us  more  than  anything  else  by  an  atmosphere 
of  perfect  healthiness.  There  is  a  calmness,  a  steadi- 
ness, in  the  character  of  Jesus,  a  naturalness  in  his 
evolution  of  the  sublimest  truths  under  the  strain  of 
the  most  absorbing  and  intense  excitement,  that  could 
come  only  from  the  one  perfectly  trained  and  devel- 
oped body,  bearing  as  a  pure  and  sacred  shrine  the 


1 62  The  Chimney-Corner. 


One  Perfect  Spirit.  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  journeying  on 
foot  from  city  to  city,  always  calm  yet  always  fervent, 
always  steady  yet  glowing  with  a  white  heat  of  sacred 
enthusiasm,  able  to  walk  and  teach  all  day  and  after- 
wards to  continue  in  prayer  all  night,  with  unshaken 
nerves,  sedately  patient,  serenely  reticent,  perfectly 
self-controlled,  walked  the  earth,  the  only  man  that 
perfectly  glorified  God  in  his  body  no  less  than  in  his 
spirit.  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  in  choosing  his 
disciples  he  chose  plain  men  from  the  laboring  classes, 
who  had  lived  the  most  obediently  to  the  simple, 
unperverted  laws  of  nature.  He  chose  men  of  good 
and  pure  bodies,  —  simple,  natural,  childlike,  healthy 
men,  —  and  baptized  their  souls  with  the  inspiration 
of  the  Holy  Spirit 

The  hygienic  bearings  of  the  New  Testament  have 
never  been  sufficiently  understood.  The  basis  of 
them  lies  in  the  solemn  declaration,  that  our  bodies 
are  to  be  temples  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  that  all 
abuse  of  them  is  of  the  nature  of  sacrilege.  Rever- 
ence for  the  physical  system,  as  the  outward  shrine 
and  temple  of  the  spiritual,  is  the  peculiarity  of  the 
Christian  religion.  The  doctrine  of  the  resurrection 
of  the  body,  and  its  physical  immortality,  sets  the  last 
crown  of  honor  upon  it.  That  bodily  system  which 
God  declared  worthy  to  be  gathered  back  from  the 
dust  of  the  grave,  and  re-created,  as  the  soul's  immor- 


Bodily  Religion.  163 

tal  companion,  must  necessarily  be  dear  and  precious 
in  the  eyes  of  its  Creator.  The  one  passage  in  the 
New  Testament  in  which  it  is  spoken  of  disparagingly 
is  where  Paul  contrasts  it  with  the  brighter  glory  of 
what  is  to  come  :  "  He  shall  change  our  vile  bodies, 
that  they  may  be  fashioned  like  his  glorious  body." 
From  this  passage  has  come  abundance  of  reviling  of 
the  physical  system.  Memoirs  of  good  men  are  full 
of  abuse  of  it,  as  the  clog,  the  load,  the  burden,  the 
chain.  It  is  spoken  of  as  pollution,  as  corruption,  — 
in  short,  one  would  think  that  the  Creator  had  imi- 
tated the  cruelty  of  some  Oriental  despots  who  have 
been  known  to  chain  a  festering  corpse  to  a  living 
body.  Accordingly,  the  memoirs  of  these  pious  men 
are  also  mournful  records  of  slow  suicide,  wrought  by 
the  persistent  neglect  of  the  most  necessary  and  im- 
portant laws  of  the  bodily  system  ;  and  the  body,  out- 
raged and  down-trodden,  has  turned  traitor  to  the 
soul,  and  played  the  adversary  with  fearful  power. 
Who  can  tell  the  countless  temptations  to  evil  which 
flow  in  from  a  neglected,  disordered,  deranged  ner- 
vous system,  —  temptations  to  anger,  to  irritability,  to 
selfishness,  to  every  kind  of  sin  of  appetite  and  pas- 
sion ?  No  wonder  that  the  poor  soul  longs  for  the 
hour  of  release  from  such  a  companion. 

But  that  human  body  which  God  declares  expressly 
was  made  to  be  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  which 


164  The  Chimney-Comer. 


. 


he  considers  worthy  to  be  perpetuated  by  a  resu 
tion  and  an  immortal  existence,  cannot  be  intended 
to  be  a  clog  and  a  hindrance  to  spiritual  advance- 
ment. A  perfect  body,  working  in  perfect  tune  and 
time,  would  open  glimpses  of  happiness  to  the  soul 
approaching  the  joys  we  hope  for  in  heaven.  It  is 
only  through  the  images  of  things  which  our  bodily 
senses  have  taught  us,  that  we  can  form  any  concep- 
tion of  that  future  bliss ;  and  the  more  perfect  these 
senses,  the  more  perfect  our  conceptions  must  be. 

The  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter,  and  the  prac- 
tical application  of  this  sermon,  is  :  —  First,  that  all 
men  set  themselves  to  form  the  idea  of  what  perfect 
health  is,  and  resolve  to  realize  it  for  themselves  and 
their  children.  Second,  that  with  a  view  to  this  they 
study  the  religion  of  the  body,  in  such  simple  and 
popular  treatises  as  those  of  George  Combe,  Dr.  Dio 
Lewis,  and  others,  and  with  simple  and  honest  hearts 
practise  what  they  there  learn.  Third,  that  the  train- 
ing of  the  bodily  system  should  form  a  regular  part 
of  our  common-school  education,  —  ever)'  common 
school  being  provided  with  a  well-instructed  teacher 
of  gymnastics ;  and  the  growth  and  development  of 
each  pupil's  body  being  as  much  noticed  and  marked 
as  is  now  the  growth  of  his  mind.  The  same  course 
should  be  continued  and  enlarged  in  colleges  and 
female  seminaries,  which  should  have  professors  of 


Bodily  Religion.  "       165 

hygiene  appointed  to  give  thorough  instruction  con- 
cerning the  laws  of  health. 

And  when  this  is  all  done,  we  may  hope  that 
crooked  spines,  pimpled  faces,  sallow  complexions, 
stooping  shoulders,  and  all  other  signs  indicating  an 
undeveloped  physical  vitality,  will,  in  the  course  of  a 
few  generations,  disappear  from  the  earth,  and  men 
will  have  bodies  which  will  glorify  God,  their  great 
Architect. 

The  soul  of  man  has  got  as  far  as  it  can  without 
the  body.  Religion  herself  stops  and  looks  back, 
waiting  for  the  body  to  overtake  her.  The  soul's 
great  enemy  and  hindrance  can  be  made  her  best 
friend  and  most  powerful  help  ;  and  it  is  high  time 
that  this  era  were  begun.  We  old  sinners,  who  have 
lived  carelessly,  and  almost  spent  our  day  of  grace, 
may  not  gain  much  of  its  good ;  but  the  children,  — 
shall  there  not  be  a  more  perfect  day  for  them  ? 
Shall  there  not  come  a  day  when  the  little  child, 
whom  Christ  set  forth  to  his  disciples  as  the  type  of 
the  greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  shall  be  the 
type  no  less  of  our  physical  than  our  spiritual  advance- 
ment,—  when  men  and  women  shall  arise,  keeping 
through  long  and  happy  lives  the  simple,  unperverted 
appetites,  the  joyous  freshness  of  spirit,  the  keen 
delight  in  mere  existence,  the  dreamless  sleep  and 
happy  waking  of  early  childhood  ? 


VII. 

HOW  SHALL  WE  ENTERTAIN  OUR  COM- 
PANY ? 

"  'HHHE  fact  is,"  said  Marianne,  "  we  must  have  a 
J-  party.  Bob  don't  like  to  hear  of  it,  but  it 
must  come.  We  are  in  debt  to  everybody :  we  have 
been  invited  everywhere,  and  never  had  anything  like 
a  party  since  we  were  married,  and  it  won't  do." 

"  For  my  part,  I  hate  parties,"  said  Bob.  "  They 
put  your  house  all  out  of  order,  give  all  the  women  a 
sick-headache,  and  all  the  men  an  indigestion  ;  you 
never  see  anybody  to  any  purpose ;  the  girls  look 
bewitched,  and  the  women  answer  you  at  cross-pur- 
poses, and  call  you  by  the  name  of  your  next-door 
neighbor,  in  their  agitation  of  mind.  We  stay  out 
beyond  our  usual  bedtime,  come  home  and  find  some 
baby  crying,  or  child  who  has  been  sitting  up  till 
nobody  knows  when ;  and  the  next  morning,  when  I 
must  be  at  my  office  by  eight,  and  wife  must  attend 
to  her  children,  we  are  sleepy  and  headachy.  I  pro- 
test against  making  overtures  to  entrap  some  hundred 


How  shall  we  entertain  our  Company?     16^ 

of  my  respectable  married  friends  into  this  snare 
which  has  so  often  entangled  me.  If  I  had  my  way, 
I  would  never  go  to  another  party ;  and  as  to  giving 
one  —  I  suppose,  since  my  empress  has  declared  her 
intentions,  that  I  shall  be  brought  into  doing  it ;  but 
it  shall  be  under  protest." 

"But,  you  see,  we  must  keep  up  society,'.'  said 
Marianne. 

"  But  I  insist  on  it,"  said  Bob,  "  it  is  n't  keeping  up 
•society.  What  earthly  thing  do  you  learn  about  peo- 
ple by  meeting  them  in  a  general  crush,  where  all  are 
coming,  going,  laughing,  talking,  and  looking  at  each 
other  ?  No  person  of  common  sense  ever  puts  forth 
any  idea  he  cares  twopence  about,  under  such  cir- 
cumstances ;  all  that  is  exchanged  is  a  certain  set  of 
commonplaces  and  platitudes  which  people  keep  for 
parties,  just  as  they  do  their  kid  gloves  and  finery. 
Now  there  are  our  neighbors,  the  Browns.  When 
they  drop  in  of  an  evening,  she  knitting,  and  he  with 
the  last  article  in  the  paper,  she  really  comes  out  with 
a  great  deal  of  fresh,  lively,  earnest,  original  talk.  We 
have  a  good  time,  and  I  like  her  so  much  that  it  quite 
verges  on  loving;  but  see  her  in  a  party,  when  she 
manifests  herself  over  five  or  six  flounces  of  pink  silk 
and  a  perfect  egg-froth  of  tulle,  her  head  adorned  with 
a  thicket  of  craped  hair  and  roses,  and  it  is  plain  at 
first  view  that  talking  with  her  is  quite  out  of  the  ques- 


1 68  The  Chimney-Corner. 

tion.  What  has  been  done  to  her  head  on  the  out- 
side has  evidently  had  some  effect  within,  for  she  is 
no  longer  the  Mrs.  Brown  you  knew  in  her  every-day 
dress,  but  Mrs.  Brown  in  a  party  state  of  mind,  and 
too  distracted  to  think  of  anything  in  particular.  She 
has  a  few  words  that  she  answers  to  everything  you 
say,  as,  for  example,  '  O,  very ! '  '  Certainly ! '  '  How 
extraordinary  ! '  '  So  happy  to,'  &c.  The  fact  is,  that 
she  has  come  into  a  state  in  which  any  real  communi- 
cation with  her  mind  and  character  must  be  suspend- 
ed till  the  party  is  over  and  she  is  rested.  Now  I  like 
society,  which  is  the  reason  why  I  hate  parties. 

"But  you  see,"  said  Marianne,  "what  are  we  to 
do?  Everybody  can't  drop  in  to  spend  an  evening 
with  you.  If  it  were  not  for  these  parties,  there  are 
quantities  of  your  acquaintances  whom  you  would 
never  meet." 

"And  of  what  use  is  it  to  meet  them?  Do  you 
really  know  them  any  better  for  meeting  them  got  up 
in  unusual  dresses,  and  sitting  down  together  when 
the  only  thing  exchanged  is  the  remark  that  it  is  hot 
or  cold,  or  it  rains,  or  k  is  dry,  or  any  other  patent 
surface-fact  that  answers  the  purpose  of  making  be- 
lieve you  are  talking  when  neither  of  you  is  saying  a 
word?" 

"  Well,  now,  for  my  part,"  said  Marianne,  "  I  con- 
fess I  like  parties :  they  amuse  me.  I  come  home 


How  shall  zve  entertain  our  Company?     169 

feeling  kinder  and  better  to  people,  just  for  the  little 
I  see  of  them  when  they  are  all  dressed  up  and  in 
good  humor  with  themselves.  To  be  sure  we  don't 
say  anything  very  profound,  —  I  don't  think  the  most 
of  us  have  anything  very  profound  to  say ;  but  I  ask 
Mrs.  Brown  where  she  buys  her  lace,  and  she  tells  me 
how  she  washes  it,  and  somebody  else  tells  me  about 
her  baby,  and  promises  me  a  new  sack-pattern.  Then 
I  like  to  see  the  pretty,  nice  young  girls  flirting  with 
the  nice  young  men  ;  and  I  like  to  be  dressed  up  a 
little  myself,  even  if  my  finery  is  all  old  and  many 
times  made  over.  It  does  me  good  to  be  rubbed  up 
and  brightened." 

"Like  old  silver,"  said  Bob. 

"  Yes,  like  old  silver,  precisely ;  and  even  if  I  do 
come  home  tired,  it  does  my  mind  good  to  have  that 
change  of  scene  and  faces.  You  men  do  not  know 
what  it  is  to  be  tied  to  house  and  nursery  all  day,  and 
what  a  perfect  weariness  and  lassitude  it  often  brings 
on  us  women.  For  my  part,  I  think  parties  are  a 
beneficial  institution  of  society,  and  that  it  is  worth  a 
good  deal  of  fatigue  and  trouble  to  get  one  up." 

"Then  there's  the  expense,"  said  Bob.  "What 
earthly  need  is  there  of  a  grand  regale  of  oysters, 
chicken-salad,  ice-creams,  coffee,  and  champagne,  be- 
tween eleven  and  twelve  o'clock  at  night,  v.hen  no 
one  of  us  would  ever  think  of  wanting  or  taking  any 
8 


170  The  Chimney-Comer. 

such  articles  upon  our  stomachs  in  our  own  homes  ? 
If  we  were  all  of  us  in  the  habit  of  having  a  regular 
repast  at  that  hour,  it  might  be  well  enough  to  enjoy 
one  with  our  neighbor ;  but  the  party  fare  is  generally 
just  so  much  in  addition  to  the  honest  three  meals 
which  we  have  eaten  during  the  day.  Now,  to  spend 
from  fifty  to  one,  two,  or  three  hundred  dollars  in  giv- 
ing all  our  friends  an  indigestion  from  a  midnight 
meal  seems  to  me  a  very  poor  investment.  Yet  if  we 
once  begin  to  give  the  party,  we  must  have  everything 
that  is  given  at  the  other  parties,  or  wherefore  do  we 
live  ?  And  caterers  and  waiters  rack  their  brains  to 
devise  new  forms  of  expense  and  extravagance ;  and 
when  the  bill  comes  in,  one  is  sure  to  feel  that  one  is 
paying  a  great  deal  of  money  for  a  great  deal  of  non- 
sense. It  is,  in  fact,  worse  than  nonsense,  because 
our  dear  friends  are,  in  half  the  cases,  not  only  no  bet- 
ter, but  a  great  deal  worse,  for  what  they  have  eaten." 
"  But  there  is  this  advantage  to  society,"  said  Ru- 
dolph, —  "  it  helps  us  young  physicians.  What  would 
the  physicians  do  if  parties  were  abolished  ?  Take  all 
the  colds  that  are  caught  by  our  fair  friends  with  low 
necks  and  short  sleeves,  all  the  troubles  from  dancing 
in  tight  dresses  and  inhaling  bad  air,  and  all  the 
headaches  and  indigestions  from  the  melange  of  lob- 
ster-salad, two  or  three  kinds  of  ice-cream,  cake,  and 
coffee  on  delicate  stomachs,  and  our  profession  gets  a 


How  shall  we  entertain  our  Company?     171 

degree  of  encouragement  that  is  worthy  to  be  thought 
of." 

"  But  the  question  arises,"  said  my  wife,  "  whether 
there  are  not  ways  of  promoting  social  feeling  less 
expensive,  more  simple  and  natural  and  rational.  I 
am  inclined  to  think  that  there  are." 

"  Yes,"  said  Theophilus  Thoro ;  "  for  large  parties 
are  not,  as  a  general  thing,  given  with  any  wish  or 
intention  of  really  improving  our  acquaintance  with 
our  neighbors.  In  many  cases  they  are  openly  and 
avowedly  a  general  tribute  paid  at  intervals  to  society, 
for  and  in  consideration  of  which  you  are  to  sit  with 
closed  blinds  and  doors-  and  be  let  alone  for  the  rest 
of  the  year.  Mrs.  Bogus,  for  instance,  lives  to  keep 
her  house  in  order,  her  closets  locked,  her  silver 
counted  and  in  the  safe,  and  her  china-closet  in  un- 
disturbed order.  Her  '  best  things '  are  put  away  with 
such  admirable  precision,  in  so  many  wrappings  and 
foldings,  and  secured  with  so  many  a  twist  and  twine, 
that  to  get  them  out  is  one  of  the  seven  labors  of 
Hercules,  not  to  be  lightly  or  unadvisedly  taken  in 
hand,  but  reverently,  discreetly,  and  once  for  all,  in 
an  annual  or  biennial  party.  Then  says  Mrs.  Bogus, 
'  For  Heaven's  sake,  let 's  have  every  creature  we  can 
think  of,  and  have  'em  all  over  with  at  once.  For 
pity's  sake,  let 's  have  no  driblets  left  that  we  shall 
have  to  be  inviting  to  dinner  or  to  tea.  No  matter 


172  The  Chimney-Corner. 


whether  they  can  come  or  not,  —  only  send  them  the 
invitation,  and  our  part  is  done ;  and,  thank  Heaven ! 
•we  shall  be  free  for  a  year."' 

"Yes,"  said  my  wife;  "a  great  stand-up  party 
bears  just  the  same  relation  towards  the  offer  of  real 
hospitality  and  good-will  as  Miss  Sally  Brass's  offer 
of  meat  to  the  little  hungry  Marchioness,  when,  with 
a  bit  uplifted  on  the  end  of  a  fork,  she  addressed  her, 
'  Will  you  have  this  piece  of  meat  ?  No  ?  Well,  then, 
remember  and  don't  say  you  have  n't  had  meat  offered 
to  you  ! '  You  are  invited  to  a  general  jam,  at  the  risk 
of  your  life  and  health ;  and  if  you  refuse,  don't  say 
you  have  n't  had  hospitality  offered  to  you.  All  our 
debts  are  wiped  out  and  our  slate  clean  ;  now  we  will 
have  our  own  closed  doors,  no  company  and  no 
trouble,  and  our  best  china  shall  repose  undisturbed 
on  its  shelves.  Mrs.  Bogus  says  she  never  could  exist 
in  the  way  that  Mrs.  Easygo  does,  with  a  constant 
drip  of  company,  —  two  or  three  to  breakfast  one  day, 
half  a  dozen  to  dinner  the  next,  and  little  evening 
gatherings  once  or  twice  a  week.  It  must  keep  her 
house  in  confusion  all  the  time ;  yet,  for  real  social 
feeling,  real  exchange  of  thought  and  opinion,  there  is 
more  of  it  in  one  half-hour  at  Mrs.  Easygo's  than  in  a 
dozen  of  Mrs.  Bogus's  great  parties. 

"  The  fact  is,  that  Mrs.  Easygo  really  does  like  the 
society  of  human  beings.  She  is  genuinely  and  heart- 


How  shall  we  entertain  our  Company •?     173 

ily  social ;  and,  in  consequence,  though  she  has  very 
limited  means,  and  no  money  to  spend  in  giving  great 
entertainments,  her  domestic  establishment  is  a  sort 
of  social  exchange,  where  more  friendships  are  formed, 
•more  real  acquaintance  made,  and  more  agreeable 
hours  spent,  than  in  any  other  place  that  can  be 
named.  She  never  has  large  parties,  —  great  general 
pay-days  of  social  debts,  —  but  small,  well-chosen  cir- 
cles of  people,  selected  so  thoughtfully,  with, a  view 
to  the  pleasure  which  congenial  persons  give  each 
other,  as  to  make  the  invitation  an  act'  of  real  per- 
sonal kindness.  She  always  manages  to  have  some- 
thing for  the  entertainment  of  her  friends,  so  that 
they  are  not  reduced  to  the  simple  alternatives  of 
gaping  at  each  other's  dresses  and  eating  lobster-salad 
and  ice-cream.  There  is  either  some  choice  music, 
or  a  reading  of  fine  poetry,  or  a  well-acted  charade,  or 
a  portfolio  of  photographs  and  pictures,  to  enliven  the 
hour  and  start  conversation  ;  and  as  the  people  are 
skilfully  chosen  with  reference  to  each  other,  as  there 
is  no  hurry  or  heat  or  confusion,  conversation,  in  its 
best  sense,  can  bubble  up,  fresh,  genuine,  clear,  and 
sparkling  as  a  woodland  spring,  and  one  goes  away 
really  rested  and  refreshed.  The  slight  entertainment 
provided  is  just  enough  to  enable  you  to  eat  salt 
together  in  Arab  fashion,  —  not  enough  to  form  the 
leading  feature  of  the  evening.  A  cup  of  tea  and  a 


174  The  Chimney-Corkier. 

basket  of  cake,  or  a  salver  of  ices,  silently  passed  at 
quiet  intervals,  do  not  interrupt  conversation  or  over- 
load the  stomach." 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  I, "  that  the  art  of  society  among 
us  Anglo-Saxons  is  yet  in  its  ruder  stages.  We  are 
not,  as  a  race,  social  and  confiding,  like  the  French 
and  Italians  and  Germans.  We  have  a  word  for 
home,  and  our  home  is  often  a  moated  grange,  an 
island,  a  castle  with  its  drawbridge  up,  cutting  us  off 
from  all  but  our  own  home-circle.  In  France  and 
Germany  and  Italy  there  are  the  boulevards  and  pub- 
lic gardens,  where  people  do  their  family  living  in 
common.  Mr.  A.  is  breakfasting  under  one  tree,  with 
wife  and  children  around,  and  Mr.  B.  is  breakfasting 
under  another  tree,  hard  by ;  and  messages,  nods,  and 
smiles  pass  backward  and  forward.  Families  see 
each  other  daily  in  these  public  resorts,  and  exchange 
mutual  offices  of  good-will.  Perhaps  from  these  cus- 
toms of  society  come  that  naive  simplicity  and  aban- 
don which  one  remarks  in  the  Continental,  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  Anglo-Saxon,  habits  of  conversation.  A 
Frenchman  or  an  Italian  will  talk  to  you  of  his  feel- 
ings and  plans  and  prospects  with  an  unreserve  that 
is  perfectly  unaccountable  to  you,  who  have  always 
felt  that  such  things  must  be  kept  for  the  very  inner- 
most circle  of  home  privacy.  But  the  Frenchman  or 
Italian  has  from  a  child  been  brought  up  to  pass  his 


How  shall  we  entertain  our  Company?     175 

family  life  in  places  of  public  resort,  in  constant  con- 
tact and  intercommunion  with  other  families  ;  and  the 
social  and  conversational  instinct  has  thus  been  daily 
strengthened.  Hence  the  reunions  of  these  people 
have  been  characterized  by  a  sprightliness  and  vigor 
and  spirit  that  the  Anglo-Saxon  has  in  vain  attempted 
to  seize  and  reproduce.  English  and  American  con- 
•versazioni  have  very  generally  proved  a  failure,  from 
the  rooted,  frozen  habit  of  reticence  and  reserve 
which  grows  with  our  growth  and  strengthens  with 
our  strength.  The  fact  is,  that  the  Anglo-Saxon  race 
as  a  race  does  not  enjoy  talking,  and,  except  in  rare 
instances,  does  not  talk  well.  A  daily  convocation  of 
people,  without  refreshments  or  any  extraneous  object 
but  the  simple  pleasure  of  seeing  and  talking  with 
each  other,  is  a  thing  that  can  scarcely  be  understood 
in  English  or  American  society.  Social  entertainment 
presupposes  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  mind  something  to  eat, 
and  not  only  something,  but  a  great  deal.  Enormous 
dinners  or  great  suppers  constitute  the  entertainment. 
Nobo'dy  seems  to  have  formed  the  idea  that  the  talk- 
ing —  the  simple  exchange  of  the  social  feelings  —  is, 
of  itself,  the  entertainment,  and  that  being  together  is 
the  pleasure. 

"  Madame  Recamier  for  years  had  a  circle  of  friends 
who  met  every  afternoon  in  her  salon  from  four  to  six 
o'clock,  for  the  simple  and  sole  pleasure  of  talking 


176  The  Chimney-Comer. 

with  each  other.  The  very  first  wits  and  men  of  let- 
ters and  statesmen  and  savans  were  enrolled  in  it,  and 
each  brought  to  the  entertainment  some  choice  mor- 
ceau  which  he  had  laid  aside  from  his  own  particular 
field  to  add  to  the  feast.  The  daily  intimacy  gave 
each  one  such  perfect  insight  into  all  the  others'  habits 
of  thought,  tastes,  and  preferences,  that  the  conversa- 
tion was  like  the  celebrated  music  of  the  Conservatoire 
in  Paris,  a  concert  of  perfectly  chorded  instruments 
taught  by  long  habit  of  harmonious  intercourse  to 
keep  exact  time  and  tune  together. 

"  Real  conversation  presupposes  intimate  acquaint- 
ance. People  must  see  each  other  often  enough  to 
wear  off  the  rough  bark  and  outside  rind  of  common- 
places and  conventionalities  in  which  their  real  ideas 
are  enwrapped,  and  give  forth  without  reserve  their 
innermost  and  best  feelings.  Now  what  is  called  a 
large  party  is  the  first  and  rudest  form  of  social  inter- 
course. The  most  we  can  say  of  it  is,  that  it  is  better 
than  nothing.  Men  and  women  are  crowded  together 
like  cattle  in  a  pen.  They  look  at  each  other,  they 
jostle  each  other,  exchange  a  few  common  bleatings, 
and  eat  together ;  and  so  the  performance  terminates. 
One  may  be  crushed  evening  after  evening  against 
men  or  women,  and  learn  very  little  about  them.  You 
may  decide  that  a  lady  is  good-tempered,  when  any 
amount  of  trampling  on  the  skirt  of  Jier  new  silk  dress 


How  shall  we  entertain  otcr  Company  f     177 

brings  no  cloud  to  her  brow.  But  is  it  good  temper, 
or  only  wanton  carelessness,  which  cares  nothing  for 
waste  ?  You  can  see  that  a  man  is  not  a  gentleman 
who  squares  his  back  to  ladies  at  the  supper-table, 
and  devours  boned  turkey  and  pate  defois  grasj  while 
they  vainly  reach  over  and  around  him  for  something, 
and  that  another  is  a  gentleman  so  far  as  to  prefer  the 
care  of  his  weaker  neighbors  to  the  immediate  indul- 
gence of  his  own  appetites ;  but  further  than  this  you 
learn  little.  Sometimes,  it  is  true,  in  some  secluded 
corner,  two  people  of  fine  nervous  system,  undisturbed 
by  the  general  confusion,  may  have  a  sociable  half- 
hour,  and  really  part  feeling  that  they  like  each  other 
better,  and  know  more  of  each  other  than  before. 
Yet  these  general  gatherings  have,  after  all,  their 
value.  They  are  not  so  good  as  something  better 
would  be,  but  they  cannot  be  wholly  dispensed  with. 
It  is  far  better  that  Mrs.  Bogus  should  give  an  annual 
party,  when  she  takes  down  all  her  bedsteads  and 
throws  open  her  whole  house,  than  that  she  should 
never  see  her  friends  and  neighbors  inside  her  doors 
at  all.  She  may  feel  that  she  has  neither  the  taste 
nor  the  talent  for  constant  small  reunions.  Such 
things,  she  may  feel,  require  a  social  tact  which  she 
has  not.  She  would  be  utterly  at  a  loss  how  to  con- 
duct them.  Each  one  would  cost  her  as  much  anx- 
iety and  thought  as  her  annual  gathering,  and  prove 
8*  L 


178  The  Chimney-Corner. 

a  failure  after  all ;  whereas  the  annual  demonstration 
can  be  put  wholly  into  the  hands  of  the  caterer,  who 
comes  in  force,  with  flowers,  silver,  china,  servants, 
and,  taking  the  house  into  his  own  hands,  gives  her 
entertainment  for  her,  leaving  to  her  no  responsibility 
but  the  payment  of  the  bills  ;  and  if  Mr.  Bogus  does 
not  quarrel  with  them,  we  know  no  reason  why  any 
one  else  should ;  and  I  think  Mrs.  Bogus  merits  well 
of  the  republic,  for  doing  what  she  can  do  towards  the 
hospitalities  of  the  season.  I  'm  sure  I  never  cursed 
her  in  my  heart,  even  when  her  strong  coffee  has  held 
mine  eyes  open  till  morning,  and  her  superlative  lob- 
ster-salads have  given  me  the  very  darkest  views  of 
human  life  that  ever  dyspepsia  and  east  wind  could 
engender.  Mrs.  Bogus  is  the  Eve  who  offers  the 
apple ;  but,  after  all,  I  am  the  foolish  Adam  who  take 
and  eat  what  I  know  is  going  to  hurt  me,  and  I  am 
too  gallant  to  visit  my  sins  on  the  head  of  my  too 
obliging  tempter.  In  country  -  places  in  particular, 
where  little  is  going  on  and  life  is  apt  to  stagnate,  a 
good,  large,  generous  party,  which  brings  the  whole 
neighborhood  into  one  house  to  have  a  jolly  time,  to 
eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  is  really  quite  a  work  of 
love  and  mercy.  People  see  one  another  in  their 
best  aothes,  and  that  is  something;  the  elders  ex- 
change all  manner  of  simple  pleasantries  and  civilities, 
and  talk  over  their  domestic  affairs,  while  the  young 


How  shall  we  entertain  oiir  Company1?     179 

people  flirt,  in  that  wholesome  manner  which  is  one 
of  the  safest  of  youthful  follies.  A  country  party,  in 
fact,  may  be  set  down  as  a  work  of  benevolence,  and 
the  money  expended  thereon  fairly  charged  to  the 
account  of  the  great  cause  of  peace  and  good-will  on 
earth." 

"  But  don't  you  think,"  said  my  wife,  "  that,  if  the 
charge  of  providing  the  entertainment  were  less  labo- 
rious, these  gatherings  could  be  more  frequent  ?  You 
see,  if  a  woman  feels  that  she  must  have  five  kinds  of 
cake,  and  six  kinds  of  preserves,  and  even  ice-cream 
and  jellies  in  a  region  where  no  confectioner  comes 
in  to  abbreviate  her  labors,  she  will  sit  with  closed 
doors,  and  do  nothing  towards  the  general  exchange 
of  life,  because  she  cannot  do  as  much  as  Mrs.  Smith 
or  Mrs.  Parsons.  If  the  idea  of  meeting  together  had 
some  other  focal  point  than  dating,  I  think  there 
would  be  more  social  feeling.  It  might  be  a  musical 
reunion,  where  the  various  young  people  of  a  circle 
agreed  to  furnish  each  a  song  or  an  instrumental  per- 
formance. It  might  be  an  impromptu  charade  party, 
bringing  out  something  of  that  taste  in  arrangement 
of  costume,  and  capacity  for  dramatic  effect,  of  which 
there  is  more  latent  in  society  than  we  think.  It 
might  be  the  reading  of  articles  in  prose  and  poetry 
furnished  to  a  common  paper  or  portfolio,  which 
would  awaken  an  abundance  of  interest  and  specula- 


180  The  CJtimney-Corner. 

s 

tion  on  the  authorship,  or  it  might  be  dramatic  read- 
ings and  recitations.  Any  or  all  of  these  pastimes 
might  make  an  evening  so  entertaining  that  a  simple 
cup  of  tea  and  a  plate  of  cake  or  biscuit  would  be  all 
the  refreshment  needed." 

"  We  may  with  advantage  steal  a  leaf  now  and 
then  from  some  foreign  book,"  said  I.  "  In  France 
and  Italy,  families  have  their  peculiar  days  set  apart 
for  the  reception  of  friends  at  their  own  houses. 
The  whole  house  is  put  upon  a  footing  of  hospitality 
and  invitation,  and  the  whole  mind  is  given  to  receiv- 
ing the  various  friends.  In  the  evening  the  salon  is 
filled.  The  guests,  coming  from  week  to  week,  for 
years,  become  in  time  friends ;  the  resort  has  the 
charm  of  a  home  circle  ;  there  are  certain  faces  that 
you  are  always  sure  to  meet  there.  A  lady  once  said 
to  me  of  a  certain  gentleman  and  lady  whom  she 
missed  from  her  circle,  '  They  have  been  at  our  house 
every  Wednesday  evening  for  twenty  years.'  f  It  seems 
to  me  that  this  frequency  of  meeting  is  the  great 
secret  of  agreeable  society.  One  sees,  in  our  Ameri- 
can life,  abundance  of  people  who  are  everything  that 
is  charming  and  cultivated,  but  one  never  sees  enough 
of  them.  One  meets  them  at  some  quiet  reunion, 
passes  a  delightful  hour,  thinks  how  charming  they 
are,  and  wishes  one  could  see  more  of  them.  But  the 
pleasant  meeting  is  like  the  encounter  of  two  ships  in 


How  shall  we  entertain  our  Company?     181 

mid-ocean  away  we  sail,  each  on  his  respective 
course,  to  see  each  other  no  more  till  the  pleasant 
remembrance  has  died  away.  Yet  were  there  some 
quiet,  home-like  resort  where  we  might  turn  in  to 
renew  from  time  to  time  the  pleasant  intercourse,  to 
continue  the  last  c6nversation,  and  to  compare  anew 
our  readings  and  our  experiences,  the  pleasant  hour 
of  liking  would  ripen  into  a  warm  friendship) 

"  But  in  order  that  this  may  be  made  possible  and 
practicable,  the  utmost  simplicity  of  entertainment 
must  prevail.  In  a  French  salon,  all  is,  to  the  last 
degree,  informal.  The  bonilloire,  the  French  tea-ket- 
tle, is  often  tended  by  one  of  the  gentlemen,  who  aids 
his  fair  neighbors  in  the  mysteries  of  tea-making. 
One  nymph  is  always  to  be  found  at  the  table  dispens- 
ing tea  and  talk ;  and  a  basket  of  simple  biscuit  and 
cakes,  offered  by  another,  is  all  the  further  repast. 
The  teacups  and  cake-basket  are  a  real  addition  to 
the  scene,  because  they  cause  a  little  lively  social 
bustle,  a  little  chatter  and  motion,  —  always  of  advan- 
tage in  breaking  up  stiffness,  and  giving  occasion  for 
those  graceful,  airy  nothings  that  answer  so  good  a 
purpose  in  facilitating  acquaintance. 

"  Nothing  can  be  more  charming  than  the  descrip- 
tion which  Edmond  About  gives,  in  his  novel  of 
'  Tolla,'  of  the  reception  evenings  of  an  old  noble 
Roman  family,  —  the  spirit  of  repose  and  quietude 


1 82  The  Chimney-Corner. 

through  all  the  apartments,  —  the  ease  of  coming  and 
going,  —  the  perfect  homelike  spirit  in  which  the 
guests  settle  themselves  to  any  employment  of  the 
hour  that  best  suits  them,  —  some  to  lively  chat,  some 
to  dreamy,  silent  lounging,  some  to  a  game,  others,  in 
a  distant  apartment,  to  music,  and  others  still  to  a 
promenade  along  the  terraces. 

"  One  is  often  in  a  state  of  mind  and  nerves  which 
indisposes  for  the  effort  of  active  conversation ;  one 
wishes  to  rest,  to  observe,  to  be  amused  without  an 
effort ;  and  a  mansion  which  opens  wide  its  hospitable 
arms,  and  offers  itself  to  you  as  a  sort  of  home,  where 
you  may  rest,  and  do  just  as  the  humor  suits  you,  is 
a  perfect  godsend  at  such  times.  You  are  at  home 
there,  your  ways  are  understood,  you  can  do  as  you 
please,  —  come  early  or  late,  be  brilliant  or  dull,  — 
you  are  always  welcome.  If  you  can  do  nothing  for 
the  social  whole  to-night,  it  matters  not.  There  are 
many  more  nights  to  come  in  the  future,  and  you  are 
entertained  on  trust,  without  a  challenge. 

"I  have  one  friend,  —  a  man  of  genius,  subject  to 
the  ebbs  and  flows  of  animal  spirits  which  attend  that 
organization.  Of  general  society  he  has  a  nervous 
horror.  A  regular  dinner  or  evening  party  is  to  him 
a  terror,  an  impossibility  ;  but  there  is  a  quiet  parlor 
where  stands  a  much-worn  old  sofa,  and  it  is  his 
delight  to  enter  without  knocking,  and  be  found  lying 


How  shall  we  entertain  our  Company?     183 

with  half-shut  eyes  on  this  friendly  couch,  while  the 
family  life  goes  on  around  him  without  a  question. 
Nobody  is  to  mind  him,  to  tease  him  with  inquiries  or 
salutations.  If  he  will,  he  breaks  into  the  stream  of 
conversation,  and  sometimes,  rousing  up  from  one  of 
these  dreamy  trances,  finds  himself,  ere  he  or  they 
know  how,  in  the  mood  for  free  and  friendly  talk. 
People  often  wonder,  *  How  do  you  catch  So-and-so  ? 
He  is  so  shy  !  I  have  invited  and  invited,  and  he 
never  comes.'  We  never  invite,  and  he  comes.  We 
take  no  note  of  his  coming  or  his  going  ;  we  do  not 
startle  his  entrance  with  acclamation,  nor  clog  his 
departure  with  expostulation;  it  is  fully  understood 
that  with  us  he  shall  do  just  as  he  chooses  ;  and  so 
he  chooses  to  do  much  that  we  like. 

"  The  sum  of  this  whole  doctrine  of  society  is,  that 
we  are  to  try  the  value  of  all  modes  and  forms  of 
social  entertainment  by  their  effect  in  producing  real 
acquaintance  and  real  friendship  and  good-will.  The 
first  and  rudest  f$rm  of  seeking  this  is  by  a  great 
promiscuous  partf,  which  simply  effects  this,  —  that 
people  at  least  see  each  other  on  the  outside,  and 
eat  together.  Next  come  all  those  various  forms  of 
reunion  in  which  the  entertainment  consists  of  some- 
thing higher  than  staring  and  eating,  —  some  exercise 
of  the  faculties  of  the  guests  in  music,  acting,  recita- 
tion, reading,  etc. ;  and  these  are  a  great  advance, 


184  The  Chimney-Corner. 

because  they  show  people  what  is  in  them,  and  thus 
lay  a  foundation  for  a  more  intelligent  appreciation 
and  acquaintance.  These  are  the  best  substitute  for 
the  expense,  show,  and  trouble  of  large  parties.  They 
are  in  their  nature  more  refining  and  intellectual.  It 
is  astonishing,  when  people  really  put  together,  in 
some  one  club  or  association,  all  the  different  talents 
for  pleasing  possessed  by  different  persons,  how  clever 
a  circle  may  be  gathered,  —  in  the  least  promising 
neighborhood.  A  club  of  ladies  in  one  of  our  cities 
has  had  quite  a  brilliant  success.  It  is  held  every 
fortnight  at  the  house  of  the  members,  according  to 
alphabetical  sequence.  The  lady  who  receives  has 
charge  of  arranging  what  the  entertainment  shall  be, 
—  whether  charade,  tableau,  reading,  recitation,  or 
music  ;  and  the  interest  is  much  increased  by  the 
individual  taste  shown  in  the  choice  of  the  diversion 
and  the  variety  which  thence  follows. 

"In  the  summer  time,  in  the  country,  open-air 
reunions  are  charming  forms  of  serial  entertainment. 
Croquet  parties,  which  bring  young  people  together 
by  daylight  for  a  healthy  exercise,  and  end  with  a 
moderate  share  of  the  evening,  are  a  very  desirable 
amusement.  What  are  called  '  lawn  teas  '  are  finding 
great  favor  in  England  and  some  parts  of  our  country. 
They  are  simply  an  early  tea  enjoyed  in  a  sort  of 
picnic  style  in  the  grounds  about  the  house.  Such  an 


How  shall  we  entertain  our  Company  f     185 

entertainment  enables  one  to  receive  a  great  many  at 
a  time,  without  crowding,  and,  being  in  its  very  idea 
rustic  and  informal,  can  be  arranged  with  very  little 
expense  or  trouble.  With  the  addition  of  lanterns  in 
the  trees  and  a  little  music,  this  entertainment  may 
be  carried  on  far  into  the  evening  with  a  very  pretty 
effect. 

"  As  to  dancing,  I  have  this  much  to  say  of  it. 
Either  our  houses  must  be  all  built  over  and  made 
larger,  or  female  crinolines  must  be  made  smaller,  or 
dancing  must  continue  as  it  now  is,  the  most  absurd 
and  ungraceful  of  all  attempts  at  amusement.  The 
effort  to  execute  round  dances  in  the  limits  of  modern 
houses,  in  the  prevailing  style  of  dress,  can  only  lead 
to  developments  more  startling  than  agreeable.  Dan- 
cing in  the  open  air,  on  the  shaven  green  of  lawns,  is 
a  pretty  and  graceful  exercise,  and  there  only  can  full 
sweep  be  allowed  for  the  present  feminine  toilet. 

"  The  English  breakfast  is  an  institution  growing  in 
favor  here,  and  rightfully,  too;  for  a  party  of  fresh, 
good-natured,  well-dressed  people,  assembled  at 
breakfast  on  a  summer  morning,  is  as  nearly  perfect 
a  form  of  reunion  as  can  be  devised.  All  are  in  full 
strength  from  their  night's  rest ;  the  hour  is  fresh  and 
lovely,  and  they  are  in  condition  to  give  each  other 
the  very  cream  of  their  thoughts,  the  first  keen 
sparkle  of  the  uncorked  nervous  system.  The  only 


1 86  The  Chimney-Corner. 

drawback  is,  that,  in  our  busy  American  life,  the  most 
desirable  gentlemen  often  cannot  spare  their  morning 
hours.  Breakfast  parties  presuppose  a  condition  of 
leisure ;  but  when  they  can  be  compassed,  they  are 
perhaps  the  most  perfectly  enjoyable  of  entertain- 
ments." 

"  Well,"  said  Marianne,  "  I  begin  to  waver  about 
my  party.  I  don't  know,  after  all,  but  the  desire  of 
paying  off  social  debts  prompted  the  idea ;  perhaps 
we  might  try  some  of  the  agreeable  things  suggested. 
But,  dear  me  !  there  's  the  baby.  We  '11  finish  the 
talk  some  other  time." 


VIII. 
HOW  SHALL  WE   BE  AMUSED? 

"/"~\NE,  two,   three,   four,  —  this  makes   the  fifth 

^-S  accident  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  in  the  two 
papers  I  have  just  read,"  said  Jenny. 

"  A  very  moderate  allowance,"  said  Theophilus 
Thoro,  "  if  you  consider  the  Fourth  as  a  great  na- 
tional saturnalia,  in  which  every  boy  in  the  land  has 
the  privilege  of  doing  whatever  is  right  in  his  own 
eyes." 

"  The  poor  boys  !  "  said  Mrs.  Crowfield.  "  All  the 
troubles  of  the  world  are  laid  at  their  door." 

"Well,"  said  Jenny,  "they  did  burn  the  city  of 
Portland,  it  appears.  The  fire  arose  from  fire-crackers, 
thrown  by  boys  among  the  shavings  of  a  carpenter's 
shop,  —  so  says  the  paper." 

"  And,"  said  Rudolph,  "  we  surgeons  expect  a  har- 
vest of  business  from  the  Fourth,  as  surely  as  from  a 
battle.  Certain  to  be  woundings,  fractures,  possibly 
amputations,  following  the  proceedings  of  our  glorious 
festival." 


1 8,8  The  CJdmney-Corner. 

"  Why  cannot  we  Americans  learn  to  amuse  our- 
selves peaceably  like  other  nations  ? "  said  Bob 
Stephens.  "  In  France  and  Italy,  the  greatest  nation- 
"al  festivals  pass  off  without  fatal  accident,  or  danger 
to  any  one.  The  fact  is,  in  our  country  we  have  not 
learned  how  to  be  amused.  Amusement  has  been 
made  of  so  small  account  in  our  philosophy  of  life, 
that  we  are  raw  and  unpractised  in  being  amused. 
Our  diversions,  compared  with  those  of  the  politer 
nations  of  Europe,  are  coarse  and  savage,  —  and  con- 
sist mainly  in  making  disagreeable  noises  and  disturb- 
ing the  peace  of  the  community  by  rude  uproar.  The 
only  idea  an  American  boy  associates  with  the  Fourth 
of  July  is  that  of  gunpowder  in  some  form,  and  a 
wild  liberty  to  fire  off  pistols  in  all'  miscellaneous 
directions,  and  to  throw  fire-crackers  under  the  heels 
of  horses,  and  into  crowds  of  women  and  children, 
for  the  fun  of  seeing  the  stir  and  commotion  thus  pro- 
duced. Now  take  a  young  Parisian  boy  and  give  him 
a  f£te,  and  he  conducts  himself  with  greater  gentle- 
ness and  good  breeding,  because  he  is  part  of  a  com- 
munity in  which  the  art  of  amusement  has  been  re- 
fined and  perfected,  so  that  he  has  a  thousand  re- 
sources beyond  the  very  obvious  one  of  making  a 
great  banging  and  disturbance. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Bob  Stephens,  "  the  fact  is,  that 
our  grim  old  Puritan  fathers  set  their  feet  down  reso- 


How  shall  we  be  amused?  189 

lutely  on  all  forms  of  amusement ;  they  would  have 
stopped  the  lambs  from  wagging  their  tails,  and  shot 
the  birds  for  singing,  if  they  could  have  had  their 
way ;  and  in  consequence  of  it,  what  a  barren,  cold, 
flowerless  life  is  our  New  England  existence  !  Life 
is  all,  as  Mantalini  said,  one  'demd  horrid  grind.' 
'  Nothing  here  but  working  and  going  to  church,'  said 
the  German  emigrants,  —  and  they  were  about  right 
A  French  traveller,  in  the  year  1837,  says  that  attend- 
ing the  Thursday-evening  lectures  and  church  prayef- 
meetings  was  the  only  recreation  of  the  young  people 
of  Boston ;  and  we  can  remember  the  time  when  this 
really  was  no  exaggeration.  Think  of  that,  with  all 
the  seriousness  of  our  Boston  east  winds  to  give  it 
force,  and  fancy  the  provision  for  amusement  in  our 
society  !  The  consequence  is,  tha*  boys  who  have  the 
longing  for  amusement  strongest  within  them,  and 
plenty  of  combativeness  to  back  it,  are  the  standing 
terror  of  good  society,  and  our  Fourth  of  July  is  a  day 
of  fear  to  all  invalids  and  persons  of  delicate  nervous 
organization,  and  of  real,  appreciable  danger  of  life 
and  limb  to  every  one." 

"  Well,  Robert,"  said  my  wife,  "  though  I  agree 
with  you  as  to  the  actual  state  of  society  in  this 
respect,  I  must  enter  my  protest  against  your  slur  on 
the  memory  of  our  Pilgrim  fathers." 

"  Yes,"  said  Theophilus  Thoro,  "  the  New-England- 


190  The  Chimney-Corner. 

ers  are  the  only  people,  I  believe,  who  take  delight 
in  vilifying  their  ancestry.  Every  young  hopeful  in 
our  day  makes  a  target  of  his  grandfather's  grave- 
stone, and  fires  away,  with  great  self-applause.  Peo- 
ple in  general  seem  to  like  to  show  that  they  are 
well-born,  and  come  of  good  stock;  but  the  young 
New-Englanders,  many  of  them,  appear  to  take  pleas- 
ure in  insisting  that  they  came  of  a  race  of  narrow- 
minded,  persecuting  bigots. 

••  "It  is  true,  that  our  Puritan  fathers  saw  not  every- 
thing. They  made  a  state  where  there  were  no 
amusements,  but  where  people  could  go  to  bed  and 
leave  their  house  doors  wide  open  all  night,  without 
a  shadow  of  fear  or  danger,  as  was  for  years  the 
custom  in  all  our  country  villages.  The  fact  is,  that 
the  simple  early  New  England  life,  before  we  began 
to  import  foreigners,  realized  a  state  of  society  in 
whose  possibility  Europe  would  scarcely  believe.  If 
our  fathers  had  few  amusements,  they  needed  few. 
Life  was  too  really  and  solidly  comfortable  and  happy 
to  need  much  amusement. 

"  Look  over  the  countries  where  people  are  most 
sedulously  amused  by  their  rulers  and  governors. 
Are  they  not  the  countries  where  the  people  are  most 
oppressed,  most  unhappy  in  their  circumstances,  and 
therefore  in  greatest  need  of  amusement  ?  It  is  the 
slave  who  dances  and  sings,  and  why  ?  Because  he 


How  shall  we  be  amused?  191 

owns  nothing,  and  can  own  nothing,  and  may  as  well 
dance  and  forget  the  fact.  But  give  the  slave  a  farm 
of  his  own,  a  wife  of  his  own,  and  children  of  his  own, 
with  a  school-house  and  a  vote,  and  ten  to  one  he 
dances  no  more.  He  needs  no  amusement,  because 
he  is  happy. 

"  The  legislators  of  Europe  wished  nothing  more 
than  to  bring  up  a  people  who  would  be  content  with 
amusements,  and  not  ask  after  their  rights  or  think 
too  closely  how  they  were  governed.  '  Gild  the  dome 
of  the  Invalides,'  was  Napoleon's  scornful  prescrip- 
tion, when  he  heard  the  Parisian  population  were  dis- 
contented. They  gilded  it,  and  the  people  forgot  to 
talk  about  anything  else.  They  were  a  childish  race, 
educated  from  the  cradle  on  spectacle  and  show,  and 
by  the  sight  of  their  eyes  could  they  be  governed. 
The  people  of  Boston,  in  1776,  could  not  have  been 
managed  in  this  way,  chiefly  because  they  were 
brought  up  in  the  strict  schools  of  the  fathers." 

"  But  don't  you  think,"  said  Jenny,  "  that  something 
might  be  added  and  amended  in  the  state  of  society 
our  fathers  established  here  in  New  England  ?  With- 
out becoming  frivolous,  there  might  be  more  attention 
paid  to  rational  amusement." 

"Certainly,"  said  my  wife,  "the  State  and  the 
Church  both  might  take  a  lesson  from  the  providence 
of  foreign  governments,  and  make  liberty,  to  say  the 


192  The  Chimney-Comer. 

least,  as  attractive  as  despotism.  It  is  a  very  unwise 
mother  that  does  not  provide  her  children  with  play- 
things." 

"And  yet,"  said  Bob,  "the  only  thing  that  the 
Church  has  yet  done  is  to  forbid  and  to  frown.  We 
have  abundance  of  tracts  against  dancing,  whist-play- 
ing, ninepins,  billiards,  operas,  theatres,  —  in  short, 
anything  that  young  people  would  be  apt  to  like. 
The  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church 
refused  to  testify  against  slavery,  because  of  political 
diffidence,  but  made  up  for  it  by  ordering  a  more 
stringent  crusade  against  dancing.  The  theatre  and 
opera  grow  up  and  exist  among  us  like  plants  on  the 
windy  side  of  a  hill,  blown  all  awry  by  a  constant 
blast  of  conscientious  rebuke.  There  is  really  no 
amusement  young  people  are  fond  of,  which  they  do 
not  pursue,  in  a  sort  of  defiance  of  the  frown  of  the 
peculiarly  religious  world.  With  all  the  telling  of 
what  the  young  shall  not  do,  there  has  been  very  little 
telling  what  they  shall  do. 

"  The  whole  department  of  amusements  —  certainly 
one  of  the  most  important  in  education  —  has  been 
by  the  Church  made  a  sort  of  outlaws'  ground,  to  be 
taken  possession  of  and  held  by  all  sorts  of  spiritual 
ragamuffins ;  and  then  the  faults  and  short-comings 
resulting  from  this  arrangement  have  been  held  up 
and  insisted  on  as  reasons  why  no  Christian  should 
ever  venture  into  it. 


How  shall  ive  be  amused?  193 

"If  the  Church  would  set  herself  to  amuse  her 
young  folks,  instead  of  discussing  doctrines  and  meta- 
physical hair-splitting,  she  would  prove  herself  a  true 
mother,  and  not  a  hard-visaged  step-dame.  Let  her 
keep  this  department,  so  powerful  and  so  difficult  to 
manage,  in  what  are  morally  the  strongest  hands, 
instead  of  giving  it  up  to  the  weakest. 

"  I  think,  if  the  different  churches  of  a  city,  for 
example,  would  rent  a  building  where  there  should  be 
a  billiard-table,  one  or  two  ninepin-alleys,  a  reading- 
room,  a  garden  and  grounds  for  ball-playing  or  inno- 
cent lounging,  that  they  would  do  more  to  keep  their 
young  people  from  the  ways  of  sin  than  a  Sunday 
school  could.  Nay,  more  :  I  would  go  further.  I 
would  have  a  portion  of  the 'building  fitted  up  with 
scenery  and  a  stage,  for  the  getting  up  of  tableaux  or 
dramatic  performances,  and  thus  give  scope  for  the 
exercise  of  that  histrionic  talent  of  which  there  is  so 
much  lying  unemployed  in  society. 

"  Young  people  do  not  like  amusements  any  better 
for  the  wickedness  connected  with  them.  The  spec- 
tacle of  a  sweet  little  child  singing  hymns,  and  repeat- 
ing prayers,  of  a  pious  old  Uncle  Tom  dying  for  his 
religion,  has  filled  theatres  night  after  night,  and 
proved  that  there  really  is  no  need  of  indecent  or 
improper  plays  to  draw  full  houses. 

"  The  things  that  draw  young  people  to  places  of 
9  M 


IQ4  The  Chimney-Comer. 

amusement  are  not  at  first  gross  things.  Take  the 
most  notorious  public  place  in  Paris,  —  the  Jardin 
Mabille,  for  instance,  —  and  the  things  which  give  it 
its  lirst  charm  are  all  innocent  and  artistic.  Exquisite 
beds  of  lilies,  roses,  gillyflowers,  lighted  with  jets  of 
gas  so  artfully  as  to  make  every  flower  translucent  as 
a  gem ;  fountains  where  the  gas-light  streams  out  from 
behind  misty  wreaths  of  falling  water  and  calla-blos- 
soms;  sofas  of  velvet  turf,  canopied  with  fragrant 
honeysuckle ;  dim  bowers  overarched  with  lilacs  and 
roses ;  a  dancing  ground  under  trees  whose  branches 
bend  with  a  fruitage  of  many-colored  lamps  ;  enchant- 
ing music  and  graceful  motion ;  in  all  these  there  is 
not  only  no  sin,  but  they  are  really  beautiful  and 
desirable  ;  and  if  they  were  only  used  on  the  side  and 
in  the  service  of  virtue  and  religion,  if  they  were  con- 
trived and  kept  up  by  the  guardians  and  instructors 
of  youth,  instead  of  by  those  whose  interest  it  is  to 
demoralize  and  destroy,  young  people  would  have  no 
temptation  to  stray  into  the  haunts  of  vice. 

"  In  Prussia,  under  the  reign  of  Frederick  William 
II.,  when  one  good,  hard-handed  man  governed  the 
whole  country  like  a  strict  schoolmaster,  the  public 
amusements  for  the  people  were  made  such  as  to  pre- 
sent a  model  for  all  states.  The  theatres  were  strictly 
supervised,  and  actors  obliged  to  conform  to  the  rules 
of  decorum  and  morality.  The  plays  and  perform- 


Holv  shall  we  be  amused?  195 

ances  were  under  the  immediate  supervision  of  men 
of  grave  morals,  who  allowed  nothing  corrupting  to 
appear;  and  the  effect  of  this  administration  and 
restraint  is  to  be  seen  in  Berlin  even  to  this  day. 
The  public  gardens  are  full  of  charming  little  resorts, 
where,  every  afternoon,  for  a  very  moderate  sum,  one 
can  have  either  a  concert  of  good  music,  or  a  very 
fair  dramatic  or  operatic  performance.  Here  whole 
families  may  be  seen  enjoying  together  a  wholesome 
and  refreshing  entertainment,  —  the  mother  and  aunts 
with  their  knitting,  the  baby,  the  children  of  all  ages, 
and  the  father,  —  their  faces  radiant  with  that  mild 
German  light  of  contentment  and  good-will  which  one 
feels  to  be  characteristic  of  the  nation.  When  I  saw 
these  things,  and  thought  of  our  own  outcast,  unpro- 
vided boys  and  young  men,  haunting  the  streets  and 
alleys  of  cities,  in  places  far  from  the  companionship 
of  mothers  and  sisters,  I  felt  as  if  it  would  be  better 
for  a  nation  to  be  brought  up  by  a  good  strict  school- 
master king  than  to  try  to  be  a  republic." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  but  the  difficulty  is  to  get  the  good 
schoolmaster  king.  For  one  good  shepherd,  there 
are  twenty  who  use  the  sheep  only  for  their  flesh  and 
their  wool.  Republics  can  do  all  that  kings  can,  — 
witness  our  late  army  and  Sanitary  Commission. 
Once  fix  the  idea  thoroughly  in  the  public  mind  that 
there  ought  to  be  as  regular  and  careful  provision  for 


196  The  Chimney-Corner. 

public  amusement  as  there  is  for  going  to  church  and 
Sunday  school,  and  it  will  be  done.  Central  Park  in 
New  York  is  a  beginning  in  the  right  direction,  and 
Brooklyn  is  following  the  example  of  her  sister  city. 
There  is,  moreover,  an  indication  of  the  proper  spirit 
in  the  increased  efforts  that  are  made  to  beautify  Sun- 
day-school rooms,  and  make  them  interesting,  and  to 
have  Sunday-school  fetes  and  picnics,  —  the  most 
harmless  and  commendable  way  of  celebrating  the 
Fourth  of  July.  Why  should  saloons  and  bar-rooms 
be  made  attractive  by  fine  paintings,  choice  music, 
flowers,  and  fountains,  and  Sunday-school  rooms  be 
four  bare  walls  ?  There  are  churches  whose  broad 
aisles  represent  ten  and  twenty  millions  of  dollars,  and 
whose  sons  and  daughters  are  daily  drawn  to  circuses, 
operas,  theatres,  because  they  have  tastes  and  feelings, 
in  themselves  perfectly  laudable  and  innocent,  for  the 
gratification  of  which  no  provision  is  made  in  any 
other  place." 

"  I  know  one  church,"  said  Rudolph,  "  whose  Sun- 
day-school room  is  as  beautifully  adorned  as  any 
haunt  of  sin.  There  is  a  fountain  in  the  centre, 
which  plays  into  a  basin  surrounded  with  shells  and 
flowers;  it  has  a  small  organ  to  lead  the  children's 
voices,  and  the  walls  are  hung  with  oil-paintings  and 
engravings  from  the  best  masters.  The  festivals  of 
the  Sabbath  school,  which  are  from  time  to  time  held 


How  shall  we  be  amused?  197 

in  this  place,  educate  the  taste  of  the  children,  as  well 
as  amuse  them ;  and,  above  all,  they  have  through 
life  the  advantage  of  associating  with  their  early  relig- 
ious education  all  those  ideas  of  taste,  elegance,  and 
artistic  culture  which  too  often  come  through  polluted 
channels. 

"  When  the  amusement  of  the  young  shall  become 
the  care  of  the  experienced  and  the  wise,  and  the 
floods  of  wealth  that  are  now  rolling  over  and  over, 
in  silent  investments,  shall  be  put  into  the  form  of 
innocent  and  refined  pleasures  for  the  children  and 
youth  of  the  state,  our  national  festivals  may  become 
days  to  be  desired,  and  not  dreaded. 

"  On  the  Fourth  of  July,  our  city  fathers  do  in  a 
certain  dim  wise  perceive  that  the  public  owes  some 
attempt  at  amusement  to  its  children,  and  they  vote 
large  sums,  principally  expended  in  bell-ringing,  can- 
nons, and  fireworks.  The  side-walks  are  witness  to 
the  number  who  fall  victims  to  the  temptations  held 
out  by  grog-shops  and  saloons  ;  and  the  papers,  for 
weeks  after,  are  crowded  with  accounts  of  accidents. 
Now,  a  yearly  sum  expended  to  keep  up,  and  keep 
pure,  places  of  amusement  which  hold  out  no  tempta- 
tion to  vice,  but  which  excel  all  vicious  places  in  real 
beauty  and  attractiveness,  would  greatly  lessen  the 
sum  needed  to  be  expended  on  any  one  particular 
day,  and  would-  refine  and  prepare  our  people  to  keep 
holidays  and  festivals  appropriately." 


198  The  Chimney-Comer. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Mrs.  Crowfield,  "  I  am  grieved 
at  the  opprobrium  which  falls  on  the  race  of  boys. 
Why  should  the  most  critical  era  in  the  life  of  those 
who  are  to  be  men,  and  to  govern  society,  be  passed  in 
a  sort  of  outlawry,  —  a  rude  warfare  with  all  existing 
institutions  ?  The  years  between  ten  and  twenty  are 
full  of  the  nervous  excitability  which  marks  the  growth 
and  maturing  of  the  manly  nature.  The  boy  feels 
wild  impulses,  which  ought  to  be  vented  in  legitimate 
and  healthful  exercise.  He  wants  to  run,  shout, 
wrestle,  ride,  row,  skate ;  and  all  "these  together  are 
often  not  sufficient  to  relieve  the  need  he  feels  of 
throwing  off  the  excitability  that  burns  within. 

"  For  the  wants  of  this  period  what  safe  provision  is 
made  by  the  Church,  or  by  the  State,  or  any  of  the 
boy's  lawful  educators  ?  In  all  the  Prussian  schools 
amusements  are  as  much  a  part  of  the  regular  school- 
system  as  grammar  or  geography.  The  teacher  is 
with  the  boys  on  the  play-ground,  and  plays  as  heart- 
ily as  any  of  them.  The  boy  has  his  physical  wants 
anticipated.  He  is  not  left  to  fight  his  way,  blindly 
stumbling  against  society,  but  goes  forward  in  a  safe 
path,  which  his  elders  and  betters  have  marked  out 
for  him. 

"  In  our  country,  the  boy's  career  is  often  a  series 
of  skirmishes  with  society.  He  wants  to  skate,  and 
contrives  ingeniously  to  dam  the  course  of  a  brook, 


How  shall  we  be  amused?  199 

and  flood  a  meadow  which  makes  a  splendid  skating- 
ground.  Great  is  the  joy  for  a  season,  and  great  the 
skating.  But  the  water  floods  the  neighboring  cel- 
lars. The  boys  are  cursed  through  all  the  moods  and 
tenses,  —  boys  are  such  a  plague  !  The  dam  is  torn 
down  with  emphasis  and  execration.  The  boys,  how- 
ever, lie  in  wait  some  cold  night,  between  twelve  "and 
one,  and  build  it  up  again  ;  and  thus  goes  on  the  bat- 
tle. The  boys  care  not  whose  cellar  they  flood,  be- 
cause nobody  cares  for  their  amusement.  They  un- 
derstand themselves  to  be  outlaws,  and  take  an  out- 
law's advantage. 

"Again,  the  boys  have  their  sleds  ;  and  sliding 
down  hill  is  splendid  fun.  But  they  trip  up  some 
grave  citizen,  who  sprains  his  shoulder.  What  is  the 
result?  Not  the  provision  of  a  safe,  good  place, 
where  boys  may  slide  down  hill  without  danger  to 
any  one,  but  an  edict  forbidding  all  sliding,  under 
penalty  of  fine. 

"  Boys  want  to  swim  :  it  is  best  they  should  swim  ; 
and  if  city  fathers,  foreseeing  and  caring  for  this  want, 
should  think  it  worth  while  to  mark  off  some  good 
place,  and  have  it  under  such  police  surveillance  as 
to  enforce  decency  of  language  and  demeanor,  they 
would  prevent  a  great  deal  that  now  is  disagreeable  in 
the  unguided  efforts  of  boys  to  enjoy  this  luxury. 

"  It  would  be  cheaper  in  the  end,  even  if  one  had  to 


2OO  The  Chimney-Corner. 

build  sliding-piles,  as  they  do  in  Russia,  or  to  build 
skating-rinks,  as  they  do  in  Montreal,  —  it  would  be 
cheaper  for  every  city,  town,  and  village  to  provide 
legitimate  amusement  for  boys,  under  proper  superin- 
tendence, than  to  leave  them,  as  they  are  now  left,  to 
fight  their  way  against  society. 

"  In  the  boys'  academies  of  our  country,  what  pro- 
vision is  made  for  amusement  ?  There  are  stringent 
rules,  and  any  number  of  them,  to  prevent  boys  mak- 
ing any  noise  that  may  disturb  the  neighbors ;  and 
generally  the  teacher  thinks  that,  if  he  keeps  the  boys 
still,  and  sees  that  they  get  their  lessons,  his  duty  is 
done.  But  a  hundred  boys  ought  not  to  be  kept  still. 
There  ought  to  be  noise  and  motion  among  them, 
in  order  that  they  may  healthily  survive  the  great 
changes  which  Nature  is  working  within  them.  If 
they  become  silent,  averse  to  movement,  fond  of  in- 
door lounging  and  warm  rooms,  they  are  going  in  far 
worse  ways  than  any  amount  of  outward  lawlessness 
could  bring  them  to. 

"  Smoking  and  yellow-covered  novels  are  worse 
than  any  amount  of  hullabaloo  ;  and  the  quietest  boy 
is  often  a  poor,  ignorant  victim,  whose  life  is  being 
drained  out  of  him  before  it  is  well  begun.  If  moth- 
ers could  only  see  the  series  of  books  that  are  sold  be- 
hind counters  to  boarding-school  boys,  whom  nobody 
warns  and  nobody  cares  for,  —  if  they  could  see  the 


How  shall  we  be  amused?  20 1 

poison,  going  from  pillow  to  pillow,  in  books  pretend- 
ing to  make  clear  the  great,  sacred  mysteries  of  our 
nature,  but  trailing  them  over  with  the  filth  of  utter 
corruption  !  These  horrible  works  are  the  inward  and 
secret  channel  of  hell,  into  which  a  boy  is  thrust  by 
the  pressure  of  strict  outward  rules,  forbidding  that 
physical  and  out-of-door  exercise  and  motion  to 
which  he  ought  rather  to  be  encouraged,  and  even 
driven. 

"  It  is  melancholy  to  see  that,  while  parents,  teach- 
ers, and  churches  make  no  provision  for  boys  in  the 
way  of  amusement,  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  Devil 
are  incessantly  busy  and  active  in  giving  it  to  them. 
There  are  ninepin-alleys,  with  cigars  and  a  bar. 
There  are  billiard-saloons,  with  a  bar,  and,  alas ! 
with  the  occasional  company  of  girls  who  are  still 
beautiful,  but  who  have  lost  the  innocence  of  woman- 
hood, while  yet  retaining  many  of  its  charms.  There 
are  theatres,  with  a  bar,  and  with  the  society  of  lost 
women.  The  boy  comes  to  one  and  all  of  these  pla- 
ces, seeking  only  what  is  natural  and  proper  he  should 
have,  —  what  should  be  given  him  under  the  eye  and 
by  the  care  of  the  Church,  the  school.  He  comes  for 
exercise  and  amusement,  —  he  gets  these,  and  a  ticket 
to  destruction  besides,  —  and  whose  fault  is  it  ? " 

"These  are  the  aspects  of  public  life,"  said  I, 
"which  make  me  feel  that  we  never  shall  have  a  per- 


2O2  The  CJiimney-Conier. 

feet  state  till  women  vote  and  bear  rule  equally  with 
men.  State  housekeeping  has  been,  hitherto,  like 
what  any  housekeeping  would  be,  conducted  by  the 
voice  and  knowledge  of  man  alone. 

"  If  women  had  an  equal  voice  in  the  management 
of  our  public  money,  I  have  faith  to  believe  that  thou- 
sands which  are  now  wasted  in  mere  political  charla- 
tanism would  go  to  provide  for  the  rearing  of  the 
children  of  the  state,  male  and  female.  My  wife  has 
spoken  for  the  boys ;  I  speak  for  the  girls  also.  What 
is  provided  for  their  physical  development  and  amuse- 
ment ?  Hot,  gas-lighted  theatric  and  operatic  perform- 
ances, beginning  at  eight,  and  ending  at  midnight ; 
hot,  crowded  parties  and  balls ;  dancing  with  dresses 
tightly  laced  over  the  laboring  lungs,  —  these  are  al- 
most the  whole  story.  I  bless  the  advent  of  croquet 
and  skating.  And  yet  the  latter  exercise,  pursued  as 
it  generally  is,  is  a  most  terrible  exposure.  There  is 
no  kindly  parental  provision  for  the  poor,  thoughtless, 
delicate  young  creature,  —  not  even  the  shelter  of  a 
dressing-room  with  a  fire,  at  which  she  may  warm  her 
numb  fingers  and  put  on  her  skates  when  she  arrives 
on  the  ground,  and  to  which  she  may  retreat  in  inter- 
vals of  fatigue  ;  so  she  catches  cold,  and  perhaps  sows 
the  seed  which  with  air-tight  stoves  and  other  appli- 
ances of  hot-house  culture  may  ripen  into  consump- 
tion. 


How  shall  we  be  amused?  203 

"  What  provision  is  there  for  the  amusement  of  all 
the  shop  girls,  seamstresses,  factory  girls,  that  crowd 
our  cities  ?  What  for  the  thousands  of  young  clerks 
and  operatives  ?  Not  long  since,  in  a  respectable  old 
town  in  New  England,  the  body  of  a  beautiful  girl 
was  drawn  from  the  river  in  which  she  had  drowned 
herself,  —  a  young  girl  only  fifteen,  who  came  to  the 
city,  far  from  home  and  parents,  and  fell  a  victim  to 
the  temptation  which  brought  her  to  shame  and  des- 
peration. Many  thus  fall  every  year  who  are  never 
counted.  They  fall  into  the  ranks  of  those  whom  the 
world  abandons  as  irreclaimable. 

"  Let  those  who  have  homes  and  every  appliance  to 
make  life  pass  agreeably,  and  who  yet  yawn  over  an 
unoccupied  evening,  fancy  a  lively  young  girl  all  day 
cooped  up  at  sewing  in  a  close,  ill-ventilated  room. 
Evening  comes,  and  she  has  three  times  the  desire  for 
amusement  and  three  times  the  need  of  it  that  her 
fashionable  sister  has.  And  where  can  she  go  ?  To 
the  theatre,  perhaps,  with  some  young  man  as  thought- 
less as  herself,  and  more  depraved ;  then  to  the  bar 
for  a  glass  of  wine,  and  another ;  and  then,  with  a 
head  swimming  and  turning,  who  shall  say  where 
else  she  may  be  led  ?  Past  midnight  and  no  one  to 
look  after  her,  —  and  one  night  ruins  her  utterly  and 
for  life,  and  she  as  yet  only  a  child  ! 

"  John  Newton  had  a  very  wise  saying  :  '  Here  is  a 


2O4  The  CJiimney-Corner. 

man  trying  to  fill  a  bushel  with  chaff.  Now  if  I  fill  it 
with  wheat  first,  it  is  better  than  to  fight  him.'  This 
apothegm  contains  in  it  the  whole  of  what  I  would  say 
on  the  subject  of  amusements." 


IX. 

DRESS,   OR  WHO   MAKES   THE   FASHIONS. 

THE  door  of  my  study  being  open,  I  heard  in  the 
distant  parlor  a  sort  of  flutter  of  silken  wings, 
and  chatter  of  bird-like  voices,  which  told  me  that  a 
covey  of  Jennie's  pretty  young  street  birds  had  just 
alighted  there.  I  could  not  forbear  a  peep  at  the  rosy 
faces  that  glanced  out  under  pheasants'  tails,  doves' 
wings,  and  nodding  humming-birds,  and  made  one  or 
two  errands  in  that  direction  only  that  I  might  gratify 
my  eyes  with  a  look  at  them. 

Your  nice  young  girl,  of  good  family  and  good 
breeding,  is  always  a  pretty  object,  and,  for  my  part,  I 
regularly  lose  my  heart  (in  a  sort  of  figurative  way)  to 
every  fresh,  charming  creature  that  trips  across  my 
path.  All  their  mysterious  rattle-traps  and  whirligigs, 

—  their  curls  and  networks  and  crimples  and  rimples 
and  crisping-pins,  —  their  little  absurdities,  if  you  will, 

—  have   to   me  a  sort  of  charm,  like  the  tricks  and 
stammerings  of  a  curly-headed  child.     I  should  have 


206  The  Chimney-Corner. 

made  a  very  poor  censor  if  I  had  been  put  in  Cato's 
place  :  the  witches  would  have  thrown  all  my  wisdom 
into  some  private  chip-basket  of  their  own,  and  walked 
off  with  it  in  triumph.  Never  a  girl  bows  to  me  that 
I  do  not  see  in  her  eye  a  twinkle  of  confidence  that 
she  could,  if  she  chose,  make  an  old  fool  of  me.  I 
surrender  at  discretion  on  first  sight. 

Jennie's  friends  are  nice  girls,  —  the  flowers  of  good, 
staid,  sensible  families, — not  heathen  blossoms  nursed 
in  the  hot-bed  heat  of  wild,  high-flying,  fashionable 
society.  They  have  been  duly  and  truly  taught  and 
brought  up,  by  good  mothers  and  painstaking  aunties, 
to  understand  in  their  infancy  that  handsome  is  that 
handsome  does ;  that  little  girls  must  not  be  vain  of 
their  pretty  red  shoes  and  nice  curls,  and  must  remem- 
ber that  it  is  better  to  be  good  than  to  be  handsome  ; 
with  all  other  wholesome  truisms  of  the  kind.  They 
have  been  to  school,  and  had  their  minds  improved  in 
all  modern  ways,  —  have  calculated  eclipses,  and  read 
Virgil,  Schiller,  and  La  Fontaine,  and  understand  all 
about  the  geological  strata,  and  the  different  systems 
of  metaphysics,  —  so  that  a  person  reading  the  list  of 
their  acquirements  might  be  a  little  appalled  at  the 
prospect  of  entering  into  conversation  with  them. 
For  all  these  reasons  I  listened  quite  indulgently  to 
the  animated  conversation  that  was  going  on  about 
—  Well ! 


Dress.  207 

What  do  girls  generally  talk  about,  when  a  knot  of 
them  get  together  ?  Not,  I  believe,  about  the  sources 
of  the  Nile,  or  the  precession  of  the  equinoxes,  or  the 
nature  of  the  human  understanding,  or  Dante,  or 
Shakespeare,  or  Milton,  although  they  have  learned 
all  about  them  in  school ;  but  upon  a  theme  much 
nearer  and  dearer,  —  the  one  all-pervading  feminine 
topic  ever  since  Eve  started  the  first  toilet  of  fig- 
leaves  ;  and  as  I  caught  now  and  then  a  phrase  of 
their  chatter,  I  jotted  it  down  in  pure  amusement, 
giving  to  each  charming  speaker  the  name  of  the  bird 
under  whose  colors  she  was  sailing. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  little  Humming- Bird,  "  I  'm 
quite  worn  out  with  sewing ;  the  fashions  are  all  so 
different  from  what  they  were  last  year,  that  everything 
has  to  be  made  over." 

"  Is  n't  it  dreadful !  "  said  Pheasant.  "  There 's 
my  new  mauve  silk  dress  !  it  was  a  very  expensive 
silk,  and  I  have  n't  worn  it  more  than  three  or  four 
times,  and  it  really  looks  quite  dowdy  ;  and  I  can't 
get  Patterson  to  do  it  over  for  me  for  this  party. 
Well,  really,  I  shall  have  to  give  up  company  because 
I  have  nothing  to  wear." 

"  Who  does  set  the  fashions,  I  wonder,"  said  Hum- 
ming-Bird  ;  "  they  seem  nowadays  to  whirl  faster  and 
faster,  till  really  they  don't  leave  one  time  for  any- 
thing." 


2O8  The  Chimney-Comer. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dove,  "  I  have  n't  a  moment  for  read- 
ing, or  drawing,  or  keeping  up  my  music.  The  fact  is, 
nowadays,  to  keep  one's  self  properly  dressed  is  all 
one  can  do.  If  I  were  grande  dame  now,  and  had 
only  to  send  an  order  to  my  milliner  and  dressmaker, 
I  might  be  beautifully  dressed  all  the  time  without 
giving  much  thought  to  it  myself;  and  that  is  what  1 
should  like.  But  this  constant  planning  about  one's 
toilet,  changing  your  buttons  and  your  fringes  and 
your  bonnet-trimmings  and  your  hats  every  other  day, 
and  then  being  behindhand !  It  is  really  too  fa- 
tiguing." 

"  Well,"  said  Jennie,  "  I  never  pretend  to  keep  up. 
I  never  expect  to  be  in  the  front  rank  of  fashion,  but 
no  girl  wants  to  be  behind  every  one  ;  nobody  wants 
to  have  people  say,  '  Do  see  what  an  old-times,  rub- 
bishy looking  creature  that  is.'  And  now,  with  my 
small  means  and  my  conscience,  (for  I  have  a  con- 
science in  this  matter,  and  don't  wish  to  spend  any 
more  time  and  money  than  is  needed  to  keep  one's 
self  fresh  and  tasteful,)  I  find  my  dress  quite  a  fa- 
tiguing care." 

"  Well,  now,  girls,"  said  Humming-Bird,  "  do  you 
really  know,  I  have  sometimes  thought  I  should  like 
to  be  a  nun,  just  to  get  rid  of  all  this  labor.  If  I 
once  gave  up  dress  altogether,  and  knew  I  was  to 
have  nothing  but  one  plain  robe  tied  round  my  waist 


Dress.  209 

with  a  cord,  it  does  seem  to  me  as  if  it  would  be  a 
perfect  repose,  —  only  one  is  a  Protestant,  you  know." 

Now,  as  Humming-Bird  was  the  most  notoriously 
dressy  individual  in  the  little  circle,  this  suggestion 
was  received  with  quite  a  laugh.  But  Dove  took  it 
up. 

"Well,  really,"  she  said,  "when  dear  Mr.  S 

preaches  those  saintly  sermons  to  us  about  our  bap- 
tismal vows,  and  the  nobleness  of  an  unworldly  life, 
and  calls  on  us  to  live  for  something  purer  and  higher 
than  we  are  living  for,  I  confess  that  sometimes  all 
my  life  seems  to  me  a  mere  sham,  —  that  I  am  going 
to  church,  and  saying  solemn  words,  and  being  wrought 
up  by  solemn  music,  and  uttering  most  solemn  vows 
and  prayers,  all  to  no  purpose ;  and  then  I  come  away 
and  look  at  my  life,  all  resolving  itself  into  a  fritter 
about  dress,  and  sewing-silk,  cord,  braid,  and  buttons, 
—  the  next  fashion  of  bonnets,  —  how  to  make  my 
old  dresses  answer  instead  of  new,  —  how  to  keep  the 
air  of  the  world,  while  in  my  heart  I  am  cherishing 
something  higher  and  better.  If  there  's  anything  I 
detest  it  is  hypocrisy ;  and  sometimes  the  life  I  lead 
looks  like  it.  But  how  to  get  out  of  it  ?  what  to  do  ? " 

"  I  'm  sure,"  said  Humming-Bird,  "  that  taking  care 
of  my  clothes  and  going  into  company  is,  frankly,  all 
I  do.  If  I  go  to  parties,  as  other  girls  do,  and  make 
calls,  and  keep  dressed,  —  you  know  papa  is  not  rich, 


2io  The  Chimney-Corner. 

and  one  must  do  these  things  economically,  —  it 
really  does  take  all  the  time  I  have.  When  I  was 
confirmed  the  Bishop  talked  to  us  so  sweetly,  and  I 
really  meant  sincerely  to  be  a  good  girl,  —  to  be  as 
good  as  I  knew  how  ;  but  now,  when  they  talk  about 
fighting  the  good  fight  and  running  the  Christian  race, 
I  feel  very  mean  and  little,  for  I  am  quite  sure  this 
is  n't  doing  it.  But  what  isv —  and  who  is  ?  " 

"  Aunt  Betsey  Titcomb  is  doing  it,  I  suppose,"  said 
Pheasant. 

"  Aunt  Betsey  !  "  said  Humming-Bird,  "  well,  she 
is.  She  spends  all  her  money  in  doing  good.  She 
goes  round  visiting  the  poor  all  the  time.  She  is  a 
perfect  saint ;  —  but  O  girls,  how  she  looks  !  Well, 
now,  I  confess,  when  I  think  I  must  look  like  Aunt 
Betsey,  my  courage  gives  out.  Is  it  necessary  to  go 
without  hoops,  and  look  like  a  dipped  candle,  in  order 
to  be  unworldly  ?  Must  one  wear  such  a  fright  of  a 
bonnet  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Jennie,  "  I  think  not.  I  think  Miss 
Betsey  Titcomb,  good  as  she  is,  injures  the  cause  of 
goodness  by  making  it  outwardly  repulsive.  I  really 
think,  if  she  would  take  some  pains  with  her  dress, 
and  spend  upon  her  own  wardrobe  a  little  of  the 
money  she  gives  away,  that  she  might  have  influence 
in  leading  others  to  higher  aims  ;  now  all  her  influ- 
ence is  against  it.  Her  outre  and  repulsive  exterior 


Dress.  211 

arrays  our  natural  and  innocent  feelings  against  good- 
ness ;  for  surely  it  is  natural  and  innocent  to  wish  to 
look  well,  and  I  am  really  afraid  a  great  many  of  us 
are  more  afraid  of  being  thought  ridiculous  than  of 
being  wicked." 

"  And  after  all,"  said  Pheasant,  "  you  know  Mr.  St. 
Clair  says,  '  Dress  is  one  of  the  fine  arts,'  and  if  it 
is,  why  of  course  we  ought  to  cultivate  it  Certainly, 
well-dressed  men  and  women  are  more  agreeable  ob- 
jects than  rude  and  unkempt  ones.  There  must  be 
somebody  whose  mission  it  is  to  preside  over  the 
agreeable  arts  of  life  ;  and  I  suppose  it  falls  to  '  us 
girls.'  That 's  the  way  I  comfort  myself,  at  all  events. 
Then  I  must  confess  that  I  do  like  dress  ;  I  'm  not 
cultivated  enough  to  be  a  painter  or  a  poet,  and  I  have 
all  my  artistic  nature,  such  as  it  is,  in  dress.  I  love 
harmonies  of  color,  exact  shades  and  matches  ;  I  love 
to  see  a  uniform  idea  carried  all  through  a  woman's 
toilet,  —  her  dress,  her  bonnet,  her  gloves,  her  shoes, 
her  pocket-handkerchief  and  cuffs,  her  very  parasol, 
all  in  correspondence." 

"  But  my  dear,"  said  Jennie,  "  anything  of  this  kind 
must  take  a  fortune  !  " 

"  And  if  I  had  a  fortune,  I  'm  pretty  sure  I  should 
spend  a  good  deal  of  it  in  this  way,"  said  Pheasant. 
"  I  can  imagine  such  completeness  of  toilet  as  I  have 
never  seen.  How  I  would  like  the  means  to  show 


212  The  CJdmney-Corner. 

what  I  could  do  !  My  life,  now,  is  perpetual  disquiet. 
I  always  feel  shabby.  My  things  must  all  be  bought 
at  hap-hazard,  as  they  can  be  got  out  of  my  poor  little 
allowance,  —  and  things  are  getting  so  horridly  dear ! 
Only  think  of  it,  girls  !  gloves  at  two  and  a  quarter ! 
and  boots  at  seven,  eight,  and  ten  dollars  !  and  then, 
as  you  say,  the  fashions  changing  so  !  Why,  I  bought 
a  sack  last  fall  and  gave  forty  dollars  for  it,  and  this 
winter  I  'm  wearing  it,  to  be  sure,  but  it  has  no  style 
at  all,  —  looks  quite  antiquated  !  " 

"Now  I  say,"  said  Jennie,  "  that  you  are  really  mor- 
bid on  the  subject  of  dress  ;  you  are  fastidious  and  par- 
ticular and  exacting  in  your  ideas  in  a  way  that  really 
ought  to  be  put  down.  There  is  not  a  girl  of  our 
set  that  dresses  as  nicely  as  you  do,  except  Emma  Sey- 
ton,  and  her  father,  you  know,  has  no  end  of  income." 

"  Nonsense,  Jennie,"  said  Pheasant.  "  I  think  I 
really  look  like  a  beggar  ;•  but  then,  I  bear  it  as  well 
as  I  can,  because,  you  see,  I  know  papa  does  all  for  us 
he  can,  and  I  won't  be  extravagant.  But  I  do  think, 
as  Humming-Bird  says,  that  it  would  be  a  great  relief 
to  give  it  up  altogether  and  retire  from  the  world  ;  or, 
as  Cousin  John  says,  climb  a  tree  and  pull  it  up  after 
you,  and  so  be  in  peace." 

"  Well,"  said  Jennie,  "  all  this  seems  to  have  come 
on  since  the  war.  It  seems  to  me  that  not  only  has 
everything  doubled  in  price,  but  all  the  habits  of  the 


Dress.  213 

world  seem  to  require  that  you  shall  have  double  the 
quantity  of  everything.  Two  or  three  years  ago  a 
good  balmoral  skirt  was  a  fixed  fact ;  it  was  a  conven- 
ient thing  for  sloppy,  unpleasant  weather.  But  now, 
dear  me  !  there  is  no  end  to  them.  They  cost  fifteen 
and  twenty  dollars  ;  and  girls  that  I  know  have  one 
or  two  every  season,  besides  all  sorts  of  quilled  and 
embroidered  and  ruffled  and  tucked  and  flounced  ones. 
Then,  in  dressing  one's  hair,  what  a  perfect  overflow 
there  is  of  all  manner  of  waterfalls,  and  braids,  and 
rats  and  mice,  and  curls,  and  combs ;  when  three  or 
four  years  ago  we  combed  our  own  hair  innocently 
behind  our  ears,  and  put  flowers  in  it,  and  thought  we 
looked  nicely  at  our  evening  parties  !  I  don't  believe 
we  look  any  better  now,  when  we  are  dressed,  than 
we  did  then,  —  so  what 's  the  use  ? " 

"  Well,  did  you  ever  see  such  a  tyranny  as  this  of 
fashion  ? "  said  Humming-Bird.  "  We  know  it 's  silly, 
but  we  all  bow  down  before  it ;  we  are  afraid  of  our 
lives  before  it ;  and  who  makes  all  this  and  sets  it 
going?  The  Paris  milliners,  the  Empress,  or  who  ? " 

"  The  question  where  fashions  come  from  is  like  the 
question  where  pins  go  to,"  said  Pheasant.  "  Think 
of  the  thousands  and  millions  of  pins  that  are  being 
used  every  year,  and  not  one  of  them  worn  out. 
Where  do  they  all  go  to  ?  One  would  expect  to  find 
a  pin  mine  somewhere." 


214  The  Chimney-Comer. 

"Victor  Hugo  says  they  go  into  the  sewers  in 
Paris,"  said  Jennie. 

"And  the  fashions  come  from  a  source  about  as 
pure,"  said  I,  from  the  next  room. 

"  Bless  me,  Jennie,  do  tell  us  if  your  father  has  been 
listening  to  us  all  this  time ! "  was  the  next  exclama- 
tion ;  and  forthwith  there  was  a  whir  and  rustle  of 
the  silken  wings,  as  the  whole  troop  fluttered  into  my 
study. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Crowfield,  you  are  too  bad ! "  said 
Humming-Bird,  as  she  perched  upon  a  corner  of  my 
study-table,  and  put  her  little  feet  upon  an  old  "  Frois- 
sart "  which  filled  the  arm-chair. 

"  To  be  listening  to  our  nonsense  ! "  said  Pheas- 
ant. 

"  Lying  in  wait"  for  us ! "  said  Dove. 

"Well,  now,  you  have  brought  us  all  down  on 
you,"  said  Humming-Bird,  "  and  you  won't  find  it  so 
easy  to  be  rid  of  us.  You  will  have  to  answer  all  our 
questions." 

"  My  dears,  I  am  at  your  service,  as  far  as  mortal 
man  may  be,"  said  I. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Humming-Bird,  "tell  us  all 
about  everything,  —  how  things  come  to  be  as  they 
are.  Who  makes  the  fashions  ? " 

"  I  believe  it  is  universally  admitted  that,  in  the 
matter  of  feminine  toilet,  France  rules  the  world," 
said  I. 


Dress.  215 

"  But  who  rules  France  ?  "  said  Pheasant.  "  Who 
decides  what  the  fashions  shall  be  there  ? " 

"  It  is  the  great  misfortune  of  the  civilized  world, 
at  the  present  hour,"  said  I,  "  that  the  state  of  mor- 
als in  France  is  apparently  at  the  very  lowest  ebb, 
and  consequently  the  leadership  of  fashion  is  entirely 
in  the  hands  of  a  class  of  women  who  could  not  be 
admitted  into  good  society,  in  any  country.  Women 
who  can  never  have  the  name  of  wife,  —  who  know 
none  of  the  ties  of  family,  —  these  are  the  dictators 
whose  dress  and  equipage  and  appointments  give  the 
law,  first  to  France,  and  through  France  to  the  civil- 
ized world.  Such  was  the  confession  of  Monsieur 
Dupin,  made  in  a  late  speech  before  the  French  Sen- 
ate, and  acknowledged,  with  murmurs  of  assent  on  all 
sides,  to  be  the  truth.  This  is  the  reason  why  the 
fashions  have  such  an  utter  disregard  of  all  those 
laws  of  prudence  and  economy  which  regulate  the 
expenditures  of  families.  They  are  made  by  women 
whose  sole  and  only  hold  on  life  is  personal  attrac- 
tiveness, and  with  whom  to  keep  this  up,  at  any  «ost, 
is  a  desperate  necessity.  No  moral  quality,  no  asso- 
ciation of  purity,  truth,  modesty,  self-denial,  or  family 
love,  comes  in  to  hallow  the  atmosphere  about  them, 
and  create  a  sphere  of  loveliness  which  brightens  as 
mere  physical  beauty  fades.  The  ravages  of  time  and 
dissipation  must  be  made  up  by  an  unceasing  study  of 


216  The  Chimney-Corner. 

the  arts  of  the  toilet.  Artists  of  all  sorts,  moving  in 
their  train,  rack  all  the  stores  of  ancient  and  modern 
art  for  the  picturesque,  the  dazzling,  the  grotesque  ; 
and  so,  lest  these  Circes  of  society  should  carry  all 
before  them,  and  enchant  every  husband,  brother,  and 
lover,  the  staid  and  lawful  Penelopes  leave  the  hearth 
and  home  to  follow  in  their  triumphal  march  and  imi- 
tate their  arts.  Thus  it  goes  in  France  ;  and  in  Eng- 
land, virtuous  and  domestic  princesses  and  peeresses 
must  take  obediently  what  has  been  decreed  by  their 
rulers  in  the  demi-monde  of  France ;  and  we  in 
America  have  leaders  of  fashion,  who  make  it  their 
pride  and  glory  to  turn  New  York  into  Paris,  and  to 
keep  even  step  with  everything  that  is  going  on  there. 
So  the  whole  world  of  woman-kind  is  marching  under 
the  command  of  these  leaders.  The  love  of  dress 
and  glitter  and  fashion  is  getting  to  be  a  morbid,  un- 
healthy epidemic,  which  really  eats  away  the  noble- 
ness and  purity  of  women. 

"In  France,  as  Monsieur  Dupin,  Edmond  About, 
and  Michelet  tell  us,  the  extravagant  demands  of 
love  for  dress  lead  women  to  contract  debts  unknown 
to  their  husbands,  and  sign  obligations  which  are  paid 
by  the  sacrifice  of  honor,  and  thus  the  purity  of  the 
family  is  continually  undermined.  In  England  *there 
is  a  voice  of  complaint,  sounding  from  the  leading 
periodicals,  that  the  extravagant  demands  of  female 


Dress.  217 

fashion  are  bringing  distress  into  families,  and  making 
marriages  impossible  ;  and  something  of  the  same  sort 
seems  to  have  begun  here.  We  are  across  the  Atlan- 
tic, to  be  sure  ;  but  we  feel  the  swirl  and  drift  of  the 
great  whirlpool ;  only,  fortunately,  we  are  far  enough 
off  to  be  able  to  see  whither  things  are  tending,  and 
to  stop  ourselves  if  we  will. 

"  We  have  just  come  through  a  great  struggle,  in 
which  our  women  have  borne  an  heroic  part,  —  have 
shown  themselves  capable  of  any  kind  of  endurance 
and  self-sacrifice  ;  and  now  we  are  in  that  reconstruc- 
tive state  which  makes  it  of  the  greatest  consequence 
to  ourselves  and  the  world  that  we  understand  our 
own  institutions  and  position,  and  learn  that,  instead 
of  following  the  corrupt  and  worn-out  ways  of  the  Old 
World,  we  are  called  on  to  set  the  example  of  a  new 
state  of  society,  —  noble,  simple,  pure,  and  religious  ; 
and  women  can  do  more  towards  this  even  than  men, 
for  women  are  the  real  architects  of  society. 

"Viewed  in  this  light,  even  the  small,  frittering 
cares  of  woman's  life  —  the  attention  to  buttons,  trim- 
mings, thread,  and  sewing-silk  —  may  be  an  expres- 
sion of  their  patriotism  and  their  religion.  A  noble- 
hearted  woman  puts  a  noble  meaning  into  even  the 
commonplace  details  of  life.  The  women  of  America 
can,  if  they  choose,  hold  back  their  country  from  fol- 
lowing in  the  wake  of  old,  corrupt,  worn-out,  effeminate 


21 8  77/i?  Chimney-Corner. 

European  society,  and  make  America  the   leader  of 
the  world  in  all  that  is  good." 

"  I  'm  sure,"  said  Humming-Bird,  "  we  all  would 
like  to  be  noble  and  heroic.  During  the  war,  I  did  so 
long  to  be  a  man !  I  felt  so  poor  and  insignificant 
because  I  was  nothing  but  a  girl ! " 

"  Ah,  well,"  said  Pheasant,  "  but  then  one  wants  to 
do  something  worth  doing,  if  one  is  going  to  do  any- 
thing. One  would  like  to  be  grand  and  heroic,  if  one 
could  ;  but  if  not,  why  try  at  all  1  One  wants  to  be 
•very  something,  very  great,  very  heroic  ;  or  if  not  that, 
then  at  least  very  stylish  and  very  fashionable.  It  is 
this  everlasting  mediocrity  that  bores  me." 

"  Then,  I  suppose,  you  agree  with  the  man  we  read " 
of,  who  buried  his  one  talent  in  the  earth,  as  hardly 
worth  caring  for." 

"To  say  the  truth,  I  always  had  something  of  a 
sympathy  for  that  man,"  said  Pheasant.  "I  can't 
enjoy  goodness  and  heroism  in'  homoeopathic  doses. 
I  want  something  appreciable.  What  I  can  do,  being 
a  woman,  is  a  very  different  thing  from  what  I  should 
try  to  do  if  I  were  a  man,  and  had  a  man's  chances  : 
it  is  so  much  less  —  so  poor  —  that  it  is  scarcely 
worth  trying  for." 

"  You  remember,"  said  I,  "  the  apothegm  of  one  of 
the  old  divines,  that  if  two  angels  were  sent  down 
from  heaven,  the  one  to  govern  a  kingdom,  and  the 


Dress. 


219 


other  to  sweep  a  street,  they  would  not  feel  any  dis- 
position to  change  works." 

"  Well,  that  just  shows  that  they  are  angels,  and 
not  mortals,"  said  Pheasant ;  "  but  we  poor  human 
beings  see  things  differently." 

4<  Yet,  my  child,  what  could  Grant  or  Sherman  have 
done,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  thousands  of  brave 
privates  who  were  content  to  do  each  their  impercep- 
tible little,  —  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  poor,  unno- 
ticed, faithful,  never-failing  common  soldiers,  who  did 
the  work  and  bore  the  suffering  ?  No  one  man  saved 
our  country,  or  could  save  it;  nor  could  the  men 
have  saved  it  without  the  women.  Every  mother  that 
said  to  her  son,  Go  ;  every  wife  that  strengthened  the 
hands  of  her  husband  ;  every  girl  who  sent  courageous 
letters  to  her  betrothed ;  every  woman  who  worked 
for  a  fair  ;  every  grandam  whose,  trembling  hands  knit 
stockings  and  scraped  lint ;  every  little  maiden  who 
hemmed  shirts  and  made  comfort-bags  for  soldiers,  — 
each  and  all  have  been  the  joint  doers  of  a  great 
heroic  work,  the  doing  of  which  has  been  the  regen- 
eration of  our  era.  A  whole  generation  has  learned 
the  luxury  of  thinking  heroic  thoughts  and  being  con- 
versant with  heroic  deeds,  and  I  have  faith  to  believe 
that  all  this  is  not  to  go  out  in  a  mere  crush  of  fash- 
ionable luxury  and  folly  and  frivolous  emptiness,  — 
but  that  our  girls  are  going  to  merit  the  high  praise 


22O  The  Chimney-Corner. 

given  us  by  De  Tocqueville,  when  he  placed  first 
among  the  causes  of  our  prosperity  the  noble  character 
of  American  women.  Because  foolish  female  persons 
in  New  York  are  striving  to  outdo  the  demi-monde  of 
Paris  in  extravagance,  it  must  not  follow  that  every 
sensible  and  patriotic  matron,  and  every  nice,  modest 
young  girl,  must  forthwith,  and  without  inquiry,  rush 
as  far  after  them  as  they  possibly  can.  Because  Mrs. 
Shoddy  opens  a  ball  in  a  two-thousand-dollar  lace 
dress,  every  girl  in  the  land  need  not  look  with  shame 
on  her  modest  white  muslin.  Somewhere  between 
the  fast  women  of  Paris  and  the  daughters  of  Christian 
American  families  there  should  be  established  a  cor- 
don sanitaire,  to  keep  out  the  contagion  of  manners, 
customs,  and  habits  with  which  a  noble-minded,  re- 
ligious democratic  people  ought  to  have  nothing  to 
do." 

"  Well  now,  Mr.  Crowfield,"  said  the  Dove,  "  since 
you  speak  us  so  fair,  and  expect  so  much  of  us,  we 
must  of  course  try  not  to  fall  below  your  compli- 
ments ;  but,  after  all,  tell  us  what  is  the  right  standard 
about  dress.  Now  we  have  daily  lectures  about  this 
at  home.  Aunt  Maria  says  that  she  never  saw  such 
times  as  these,  when  mothers  and  daughters,  church- 
members  and  worldly  people,  all  seem  to  be  going 
one  way,  and  sit  down  together  and  talk,  as  they  will, 
on  dress  and  fashion,  —  how  to  have  this  made  and 


Dress.  221 

that  altered.  We  used  to  be  taught,  she  said,  that 
church-members  had  higher  things  to  think  of,  —  that 
their  thoughts  ought  to  be  fixed  on  something  better, 
and  that  they  ought  to  restrain  the  vanity  and  world- 
liness  of  children  and  young  people  ;  but  now,  she 
says,  even  before  a  girl  is  born,  dress  is  the  one  thing 
needful,  —  the  great  thing  to  be  thought  of;  and  so, 
in  every  step  of  the  way  upward,  her  little  shoes,  and 
her  little  bonnets,  and  her  little  dresses,  and  her 
corals  and  her  ribbons,  are  constantly  being  discussed 
in  her  presence,  as  the  one  all-important  object  of 
life.  Aunt  Maria  thinks  mamma  is  dreadful,  because 
she  has  maternal  yearnings  over  our  toilet  successes 
and  fortunes  ;  and  we  secretly  think  Aunt  Maria  is 
rather  soured  by  old  age,  and  has  forgotten  how  a  girl 
feels." 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  I,  "  that  the  love  of  dress  and 
outside  show  has  been  always  such  an  exacting  and 
absorbing  tendency,  that  it  seems  to  have  furnished 
work  for  religionists  and  economists,  in  all  ages,  to 
keep  it  within  bounds.  Various  religious  bodies,  at 
the  outset,  adopted  severe  rules  in  protest  against  it. 
The  Quakers  and  the  Methodists  prescribed  certain 
fixed  modes  of  costume  as  a  barrier  against  its  frivoli- 
ties and  follies.  In  the  Romish  Church  an  entrance 
on  any  religious  order  prescribed  entire  and  total 
renunciation  of  all  thought  and  care  for  the  beautiful 


222  The  Chimney-Corner. 

in  person  or  apparel,  as  the  first  step  towards  saint- 
ship.  The  costume  of  the  religieuse  seemed  to  be 
purposely  intended  to  imitate  the  shroudings  and 
swathings  of  a  corpse  and  the  lugubrious  color  of  a 
pall,  so  as  forever  to  remind  the  wearer  that  she  was 
dead  to  the  world  of  ornament  and  physical  beauty. 
All  great  Christian  preachers  and  reformers  have 
levelled  their  artillery  against  the  toilet,  from  the  time 
of  St.  Jerome  downward ;  and  Tom  Moore  has  put 
into  beautiful  and  graceful  verse  St.  Jerome's  admoni- 
tions to  the  fair  church-goers  of  his  time. 

'WHO   IS   THE   MAID? 
'ST.  JEROME'S  LOVE. 

'  Who  is  the  maid  my  spirit  seeks, 

Through  cold  reproof  and  slander's  blight  ? 
Has  she  Love's  roses  on  her  cheeks  ? 

Is  hers  an  eye  of  this  world's  light  ? 
No  :  wan  and  sunk  with  midnight  prayer 

Are  the  pale  looks  of  her  I  love  ; 
Or  if,  at  times,  a  light  be  there, 

Its  beam  is  kindled  from  above. 

'  I  chose  not  her,  my  heart's  elect, 

From  those  who  seek  their  Maker's  shrine 

In  gems  and  garlands  proudly  decked, 
As  if  themselves  were  things  divine. 

No  :  Heaven  but  faintly  warms  the  breast 
That  beats  beneath  a  broidered  veil ; 


Dress.  223 

And  she  who  comes  in  glittering  vest 
To  mourn  her  frailty  still  is  frail. 

'  Not  so  the  faded  form  I  prize 

And  love,  because  its  bloom  is  gone  ; 
The  glory  in  those  sainted  eyes 

Is  all  the  grace  her  brow  puts  on. 
And  ne'er  was  Beauty's  dawn  so  bright, 

So  touching,  as  that  form's  decay, 
Which,  like  the  altar's  trembling  light, 

In  holy  lustre  wastes  away.' 

"  But  the  defect  of  all  these  modes  of  warfare  on 
the  elegances  and  refinements  of  the  toilet  was  that 
they  were  too  indiscriminate.  They  were  in  reality 
founded  on  a  false  principle.  They  took  for  granted 
that  there  was  something  radically  corrupt  and  wicked 
in  the  body  and  in  the  physical  system.  According 
to  this  mode  of  viewing  things,  the  body  was  a  loath- 
some and  pestilent  prison,  in  which  the  soul  was 
locked  up  and  enslaved,  and  the  eyes,  the  ears,  the 
taste,  the  smell,  were  all  so  many  corrupt  traitors  in 
conspiracy  to  poison  her.  Physical  beauty  of  every 
sort  was  a  snare,  a  Circean  enchantment,  to  be 
valiantly  contended  with  and  straitly  eschewed. 
Hence  they  preached,  not  moderation,  but  total 
abstinence  from  all  pursuit  of  physical  grace  and 
beauty. 

"Now,  a  resistance  founded  on  an  over-statement 


224  The  Chimney-Comer. 

is  constantly  tending  to  reaction.  People  always 
have  a  tendency  to  begin  thinking  for  themselves  : 
and  when  they  so  think,  they  perceive  that  a  good 
and  wise  God  would  not  have  framed  our  bodies  with 
such  exquisite  care  only  to  corrupt  our  souls,  —  that 
physical  beauty,  being  created  in  such  profuse  abun- 
dance around  us,  and  we  being  possessed  with  such  a 
longing  for  it,  must  have  its  uses,  its  legitimate  sphere 
of  exercise.  Even  the  poor,  shrouded  nun,  as  she 
walks  the  convent  garden,  cannot  help  asking  herself 
why,  if  the  crimson  velvet  of  the  rose  was  made  by 
God,  all  colors  except  black  and  white  are  sinful  for 
her ;  and  the  modest  Quaker,  after  hanging  all  her 
house  and  dressing  all  her  children  in  drab,  cannot 
but  marvel  at  the  sudden  outstreaking  of  blue  and 
yellow  and  crimson  in  the  tulip-beds  under  her  win- 
dow, and  reflect  how  very  differently  the  great  All- 
Father  arrays  the  world's  housekeeping.  The  conse- 
quence of  all  this  has  been,  that  the  reforms  based 
upon  these  severe  and  exclusive  views  have  gradually 
gone  backward.  The  Quaker  dress  is  imperceptibly 
and  gracefully  melting  away  into  a  refined  simplicity 
of  modern  costume,  which  in  many  cases  seems  to  be 
the  perfection  of  taste.  The  obvious  reflection,  that 
one  color  of  the  rainbow  is  quite  as  much  of  God  as 
another,  has  led  the  children  of  gentle  dove-colored 
mothers  to  appear  in  shades  of  rose-color,  blue,  and 


Dress.  225 

lilac ;  and  wise  elders  have  said,  it  is  not  so  much  the 
color  or  the  shape  that  we  object  to,  as  giving  too 
much  time  and  too  much  money,  —  if  the  heart  be 
right  with  God  and  man,  the  bonnet  ribbon  may  be 
of  any  shade  you  please." 

"  But  don't  you  think,"  said  Pheasant,  "  that  a  cer- 
tain fixed  dress,  marking  the  unworldly  character  of 
a  religious  order,  is  desirable  ?  Now,  I  have  said 
before  that  I  am  very  fond  of  dress.  I  have  a  passion 
for  beauty  and  completeness  in  it ;  and  as  long  as  I 
am  in  the  world  and  obliged  to  dress  as  the  world 
does,  it  constantly  haunts  me,  and  tempts  me  to  give 
more  time,  more  thought,  more  money,  to  these 
things  than  I  really  think  they  are  worth.  But  I  can 
conceive  of  giving  up  this  thing  altogether  as  being 
much  easier  than  regulating  it  to  the  precise  point. 
I  never  read  of  a  nun's  taking  the  veil,  without  a 
certain  thrill  of  sympathy.  To  cut  off  one's  hair,  to 
take  off  and  cast  from  her,  one  by  one,  all  one's 
trinkets  and  jewels,  to  lie  down  and  have  the  pall 
thrown  over  one,  and  feel  one's  self,  once  for  all,  dead 
to  the  world,  —  I  cannot  help  feeling  as  if  this  were 
real,  thorough,  noble  renunciation,  and  as  if  one 
might  rise  up  from  it  with  a  grand,  calm  consciousness 
of  having  risen  to  a  higher  and  purer  atmosphere, 
and  got  above  all  the  littlenesses  and  distractions 
that  beset  us  here.  So  I  have  heard  charming  young 
10*  o 


226  The  Chimney-Comer. 

Quaker  girls,  who,  in  more  thoughtless  days,  indulged 
in  what  for  them  was  a  slight  shading  of  worldly 
conformity,  say  that  it  was  to  them  a  blessed  rest 
when  they  put  on  the  strict,  plain  dress,  and  felt  that 
they  really  had  taken  up  the  cross  and  turned  their 
backs  on  the  world.  I  can  conceive  of  doing  this, 
much  more  easily  than  I  can  of  striking  the  exact  line 
between  worldly  conformity  and  noble  aspiration,  in 
the  life  I  live  now." 

11  My  dear  child,"  said  I,  "  we  all  overlook  one 
great  leading  principle  of  our  nature,  and  that  is,  that 
we  are  made  to  find  a  higher  pleasure  in  self-sacrifice 
than  in  any  form  of  self-indulgence.  There  is  some- 
thing grand  and  pathetic  in  the  idea  of  an  entire  self- 
surrender,  to  which  every  human  soul  leaps  up,  as  we 
do  to  the  sound  of  martial  music. 

"  How  many  boys  of  Boston  and  New  York,  who 
had  lived  effeminate  and  idle  lives,  felt  this  new  power 
uprising  in  them  in  our  war !  How  they  embraced 
the  dirt  and  discomfort  and  fatigue  and  watchings  and 
toils  of  camp-life  with  an  eagerness  of  zest  which  they 
had  never  felt  in  the  pursuit  of  mere  pleasure,  and 
wrote  home  burning  letters  that  they  never  were  so 
happy  in  their  lives  !  It  was  not  that  dirt  and  fatigue 
and  discomfort  and  watchings  and  weariness  were  in 
themselves  agreeable,  but  it  was  a  joy  to  feel  them- 
selves able  to  bear  all  and  surrender  all  for  something 


Dress.  227 

higher  than  self.  Many  a  poor  Battery  bully  of  New 
York,  many  a  street  rowdy,  felt  uplifted  by  the  dis- 
covery that  he  too  had  hid  away  under  the  dirt  and 
dust  of  his  former  life  this  divine  and  precious  jewel. 
He  leaped  for  joy  to  find  that  he  too  could  be  a  hero. 
Think  of  the  ( hundreds  of  thousands  of  plain,  ordi- 
nary workingmen,  and  of  seemingly  ordinary  boys, 
•who,  but  for  such  a  crisis,  might  have  passed  through 
life  never  knowing  this  to  be  in  them,  and  who  cou- 
rageously endured  hunger  and  thirst  and  cold,  and 
separation  from  dearest  friends,  for  days  and  weeks 
and  months,  when  they  might,  at  any  day,  have 
bought  a  respite  by  deserting  their  country's  flag ! 
Starving  boys,  sick  at  heart,  dizzy  in  head,  pining  for 
home  and  mother,  still  found  warmth  and  comfort  in 
the  one  thought  that  they  could  suffer,  die,  for  their 
country ;  and  the  graves  at  Salisbury  and  Anderson- 
ville  show  in  how  many  souls  this  noble  power  of  self- 
sacrifice  to  the  higher  good  was  lodged,  —  how  many 
there  were,  even  in  the  humblest  walks  of  life,  who 
preferred  death  by  torture  to  life  in  dishonor. 

"  It  is  this  heroic  element  in  man  and  woman  that 
makes  self-sacrifice  an  ennobling  and  purifying  ordeal 
in  any  religious  profession.  The  man  really  is  taken 
into  a  higher  region  of  his  own  nature,  and  finds  a 
pleasure  in  the  exercise  of  higher  faculties  which  he 
did  not  suppose  himself  to  possess.  Whatever  sacri- 


228  The  Chimney-Corner. 

fice  is  supposed  to  be  duty,  whether  the  supposition 
be  really  correct  or  not,  has  in  it  an  ennobling  and 
purifying  power ;  and  thus  the  eras  of  conversion 
from  one  form  of  the  Christian  religion  to  another  are 
often  marked  with  a  real  and  permanent  exaltation  of 
the  whole  character.  But  it  does  not  follow  that  cer- 
tain religious  beliefs  and  ordinances  are  in  themselves 
just,  because  they  thus  touch  the  great  heroic  master- 
chord  of  the  human. soul.  To  wear  sackcloth  and 
sleep  on  a  plank  may  have  been  of  use  to  many  souls, 
as  symbolizing  the  awakening  of  this  higher  nature  ; 
but,  still,  the  religion  of  the  New  Testament  is  plainly 
one  which  calls  to  no  such  outward  and  evident  sacri- 
fices. 

"  It  was  John  the  Baptist,  and  not  the  Messiah, 
who  dwelt  in  the  wilderness  and  wore  garments  of 
camel's  hair ;  and  Jesus  was  commented  on,  not  for 
his  asceticism,  but  for  his  cheerful,  social  acceptance 
of  the  average  innocent  wants  and  enjoyments  of  hu- 
manity. '  The  Son  of  man  came  eating  and  drinking.' 
The  great,  and  never-ceasing,  and  utter  self-sacrifice 
of  his  life  was  not  signified  by  any  peculiarity  of  cos- 
tume, or  language,  or  manner ;  it  showed  itself  only 
as  it  unconsciously  welled  up  in  all  his  words  and 
actions,  in  his  estimates  of  life,  in  all  that  marked  him 
out  as  a  being  of  a  higher  and  holier  sphere." 

"  Then  you  do  not  believe  in  influencing  this  sub- 


Dress.  229 

ject  of  dress  by  religious  persons'  adopting  any  par- 
ticular laws  of  costume  ?  "  said  Pheasant. 

"  I  do  not  see  it  to  be  possible,"  said  I,  "  consider- 
ing how  society  is  made  up.  There  are  such  differ- 
ences of  taste  and  character,  —  people  move  in  such 
different  spheres,  are  influenced  by  such  different  cir- 
cumstances, —  that  all  we  can  do  is  to  lay  down  cer- 
tain great  principles,  and  leave  it  to  every  one  to 
apply  them  according  to  individual  needs." 

"  But  what  are  these  principles  ?  There  is  the 
grand  inquiry." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  let  us  feel  our  way.  In  the  first 
place,  then,  we  are  all  agreed  in  one  starting-point,  — 
that  beauty  is  not  to  be  considered  as  a  bad  thing,  — 
that  the  love  of  ornament  in  our  outward  and  phys- 
ical life  is  not  a  sinful  or  a  dangerous  feeling,  and  only 
leads  to  evil,  as  all  other  innocent  things  do,  by  being 
used  in  wrong  ways.  So  far  we  are  all  agreed,  are  we 
not  ? " 

"  Certainly,"  said  all  the  voices. 

"  It  is,  therefore,  neither  wicked  nor  silly  nor  weak- 
minded  to  like  beautiful  dress,  and  all  that  goes  to 
make  it  up.  Jewelry,  diamonds,  pearls,  emeralds, 
rubies,  and  all  sorts  of  pretty  things  that  are  made  of 
them,  are  as  lawful  and  innocent  objects  of  admiration 
and  desire,  as  flowers  or  birds  or  butterflies,  or  the 
tints  of  evening  skies.  Gems,  in  fact,  are  a  species 


230  The  Chimney-Comer. 

of  mineral  flower ;  they  are  the  blossoms  of  the  dark, 
hard  mine ;  and  what  they  want  in  perfume  they  make 
up  in  durability.  The  best  Christian  in  the  world 
may,  without  the  least  inconsistency,  admire  them,  and 
say,  as  a  charming,  benevolent  old  Quaker  lady  once 
said  to  me,  '  I  do  so  love  to  look  at  beautiful  jewelry! ' 
The  love  of  beautiful  dress,  in  itself,  therefore,  so  far 
from  being  in  a  bad  sense  worldly,  may  be  the  same 
indication  of  a  refined  and  poetical  nature  that  is 
given  by  the  love  of  flowers  and  of  natural  objects. 

"  In  the  third  place,  there  is  nothing  in  itself  wrong, 
or  unworthy  a  rational  being,  in  a  certain  degree  of 
attention  to  the  fashion  of  society  in  our  costume.  It 
is  not  wrong  to  be  annoyed  at  unnecessary  departures 
from  the  commonly  received  practices  of  good  society 
in  the  matter  of  the  arrangement  of  our  toilet ;  and  it 
would  indicate  rather  an  unamiable  want.of  sympathy 
with  our  fellow-beings,  if  we  were  not  willing,  for  the 
most  part,  to  follow  what  they  indicate  to  be  agreeable 
in  the  disposition  of  our  outward  affairs." 

"  Well,  I  must  say,  Mr.  Crowfield,  you  are  allowing 
us  all  a  very  generous  margin,"  said  Humming-Bird. 

"  But,  now,"  said  I,  "  I  am  coming  to  the  restric- 
tions. When  is  love  of  dress  excessive  and  wrong  ? 
To  this  I  answer  by  stating  my  faith  in  one  of  old 
Plato's  ideas,  in  which  he  speaks  of  beauty  and  its 
uses.  He  says  there  were  two  impersonations  of 


Dress.  231 

beauty  worshipped  under  the  name  of  Venus  in  the 
ancient  times,  —  the  one  celestial,  born  of  the  highest 
gods,  the  other  earthly.  To  the  earthly  Venus  the 
sacrifices  were  such  as  were  more  trivial ;  to  the  celes- 
tial, such  as  were  more  holy.  'The  worship  of  the 
earthly  Venus,'  he  says,  '  sends  us  oftentimes  on  un- 
worthy and  trivial  errands,  but  the  worship  of  the 
celestial  to  high  and  honorable  friendships,  to  noble 
aspirations  and  heroic  actions.' 

"  Now  it  seems  to  me  that,  if  we  bear  in  mind  this 
truth  in  regard  to  beauty,  we  shall  have  a  test  with 
which  to  try  ourselves  in  the  matter  of  physical  adorn- 
ment. We  are  always  excessive  when  we  sacrifice  the 
higher  beauty  to  attain  the  lower  one.  A  woman  who 
will  sacrifice  domestic  affection,  conscience,  self-re- 
spect, honor,  to  love  of  dress,  we  all  agree,  loves  dress 
too  much.  She  loses  the  true  and  higher  beauty  of 
womanhood  for  the  lower  beauty  of  gems  and  flowers 
and  colors.  A  girl  who  sacrifices  to  dress  all  her  time, 
all  her  strength,  all  her  money,  to  the  neglect  of  the 
cultivation  of  her  mind  and  heart,  and  to  the  neglect 
of  the  claims  of  others  on  her  helpfulness,  is  sacrific- 
ing the  higher  to  the  lower  beauty.  Her  fault  is  not 
the  love  of  beauty,  but  loving  the  wrong  and  inferior 
kind. 

"  It  is  remarkable  that  the  directions  of  Holy  Writ, 
in  regard  to  the  female  dress,  should  distinctly  take 


232  The  Chimney-Corner. 

note  of  this  difference  between  the  higher  and  the 
lower  beauty  which  we  find  in  the  works  of  Plato. 
The  Apostle  gives  no  rule,  no  specific  costume,  which 
should  mark  the  Christian  woman  from  the  Pagan ; 
but  says,  '  whose  adorning,  let  it  not  be  that  outward 
adorning  of  plaiting  the  hair,  and  of  wearing  of  gold, 
or  of  putting  on  of  apparel ;  but  let  it  be  the  hidden 
man  of  the  heart,  in  that  which  is  not  corruptible, 
even  the  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  which 
is  in  the  sight  of  God  of  great  price.'  The  gold  and 
gems  and  apparel  are  not  forbidden ;  but  we  are  told 
not  to  depend  on  them  for  beauty,  to  the  neglect  of 
those  imperishable,  immortal  graces  that  belong  to  the 
soul.  The  makers  of  fashion  among  whom  Christian 
women  lived  when  the  Apostle  wrote  were  the  same 
class  of  brilliant  and  worthless  Aspasias  who  make 
the  fashions  of  modern  Paris ;  and  all  womankind 
was  sunk  into  slavish  adoration  of  mere  physical 
adornment  when  the  Gospel  sent  forth  among  them 
this  call  to  the  culture  of  a  higher  and  immortal 
beauty. 

"  In  fine,  girls,"  said  I,  "  you  may  try  yourselves  by 
this  standard.  You  love  dress  too  much  when  you 
care  more  for  your  outward  adornings  than  for  your 
inward  dispositions,  —  when  it  afflicts  you  more  to 
have  torn  your  dress  than  to  have  lost  your  temper,  — 
when  you  are  more  troubled  by  an  ill-fitting  gown 


Dress.  233 

than  by  a  neglected  duty,  —  when  you  are  less  con- 
cerned at  having  made  an  unjust  comment,  or  spread 
a  scandalous  report,  than  at  having  worn  a  passee  bon- 
net, —  when  you  are  less  troubled  at  the  thought  of 
being  found  at  the  last  great  feast  without  the  wedding 
garment,  than  at  being  found  at  the  party  to-night  in 
the  fashion  of  last  year.  No  Christian  woman,  as  I 
view  it,  ought  to  give  such  attention  to  her  dress  as  to 
allow  it  to  take  up  all  of  three  very  important  things, 
viz.  :  — 

All  her  time. 
All  her  strength. 
All  her  money. 

Whoever  does  this  lives  not  the  Christian,  but  the 
Pagan  life,  —  worships  not  at  the  Christian's  altar  of 
our  Lord  Jesus,  but  at  the  shrine  of  the  lower  Venus 
of  Corinth  and  Rome." 

"O  now,  Mr.  Crowfield,  you  frighten  me,"  said 
Humming-Bird.  "  I  'm  so  afraid,  do  you  know,  that 
I  am  doing  exactly  that." 

"  And  so  am  I,"  said  Pheasant;  "and  yet,  certainly, 
it  is  not  what  I  mean  or  intend  to  do." 

"  But  how  to  help  it,"  said  Dove. 

"  My  dears,"  said  I,  "  where  there  is  a  will  there  is 
a  way.  Only  resolve  that  you  will  put  the  true  beauty 
first,  —  that,  even  if  you  do  have  to  seem  unfashion- 
able, you  will  follow  the  highest  beauty  of  woman- 


234  The  Chimney-Corner. 

hood,  —  and  the  battle  is  half  gained.  Only  resolve 
that  your  time,  your  strength,  your  money,  such  as 
you  have,  shall  not  all — nor  more  than  half — be 
given  to  mere  outward  adornment,  and  you  will  go 
right.  It  requires  only  an  army  of  girls  animated 
with  this  noble  purpose  to  declare  independence  in 
America,  and  emancipate  us  from  the  decrees  and 
tyrannies  of  French  actresses  and  ballet-dancers.  En 
avant,  girls  !  You  yet  can,  if  you  will,  save  the  repub- 
lic." 


X. 


WHAT    ARE    THE    SOURCES    OF    BEAUTY 
IN   DRESS. 

THE  conversation  on  dress  which  I  had  held  with 
Jennie  and  her  little  covey  of  Birds  of  Paradise 
appeared  to  have  worked  in  the  minds  of  the  fair 
council,  for  it  was  not  long  before  they  invaded  my 
study  again  in  a  body.  They  were  going  out  to  a 
party,  but  called  for  Jennie,  and  of  course  gave  me 
and  Mrs.  Crowfield  the  privilege  of  seeing  them 
equipped  for  conquest. 

Latterly,  I  must  confess,  the  mysteries  of  the  toilet 
rites  have  impressed  me  with  a  kind  of  superstitious 
awe.  Only  a  year  ago  my  daughter  Jennie  had 
smooth  dark  hair,  which  she  wreathed  in  various  soft, 
flowing  lines  about  her  face,  and  confined  in  a  clas- 
sical knot  on  the  back  of  her  head.  Jennie  had  rather 
a  talent  for  coiffure,  and  the  arrangement  of  her  hair 
was  one  of  my  little  artistic  delights.  She  always  had 
something  there,  —  a  leaf,  a  spray,  a  bud  or  blossom, 
that  looked  fresh,  and  had  a  sort  of  poetical  grace  of 
its  own. 


236  The  Chimney-Comer. 

But  in  a  gradual  way  all  this  has  been  changing. 
Jennie's  him  first  became  slightly  wavy,  then  curly, 
finally  frizzly,  presenting  a  tumbled  and  twisted  ap- 
pearance, which  gave  me  great  inward  concern;  but 
when  I  spoke  upon  the  subject  I  was  always  laughing- 
ly silenced  with  the  definitive  settling  remark  :  "  O, 
it 's  the  fashion,  papa  !  Everybody  wears  it  so." 

I  particularly  objected  to  the  change  on  my  own 
small  account,  because  the  smooth,  breakfast-table 
coiffure,  which  I  had  always  so  much  enjoyed,  was 
now  often  exchanged  for  a  peculiarly  bristling  appear- 
ance; the  hair  being  variously  twisted,  tortured, 
woven,  and  wound,  without  the  least  view  to  immedi- 
ate beauty  or  grace.  But  all  this,  I  was  informed, 
was  the  necessary  means  towards  crimping  for  some 
evening  display  of  a  more  elaborate  nature  than 
usual. 

Mrs.  Crowfield  and  myself  are  not  party-goers  by 
profession,  but  Jennie  insists  on  our  going  out  at 
least  once  or  twice  in  a  season,  just,  as  she  says,  to 
keep  up  with  the  progress  of  society ;  and  at  these 
times  I  have  been  struck  with  frequent  surprise  by  the 
general  untidiness  which  appeared  to  have  come  over 
the  heads  of  all  my  female  friends.  I  know,  of 
course,  that  I  am  only  a  poor,  ignorant,  bewildered 
man-creature ;  but  to  my  uninitiated  eyes  they  looked 
as  if  they  had  all,  after  a  very  restless  and  perturbed 


Sources  of  Beauty  in  Dress.  237 

sleep,  come  out  of  bed  without  smoothing  their  tum- 
bled and  disordered  locks.  Then,  every  young  lady, 
without  exception,  seemed  to  have  one  kind  of  hair, 
and  that  the  kind  which  was  rather  suggestive  of  the 
term  woolly.  Every  sort  of  wild  abandon  of  frowzy 
locks  seemed  to  be  in  vogue ;  in  some  cases  the  hair 
appearing  to  my  vision  nothing  but  a  confused  snarl, 
in  which  glittered  tinklers,  spangles,  and  bits  of  tin- 
sel, and  from  which  waved  long  pennants  and  stream- 
ers of  different-colored  ribbons. 

I  was  in  fact  very  greatly  embarrassed  by  my  first 
meeting  with  some  very  charming  girls,  whom  I 
thought  I  knew  as  familiarly  as  my  own  daughter 
Jennie,  and  whose  soft,  pretty  hair  had  often  formed 
the  object  of  my  admiration.  Now,  however,  they 
revealed  themselves  to  me  in  coiffures  which  forcibly 
reminded  me  of  the  electrical  experiments  which  used 
to  entertain  us  in  college,  when  the  subject  stood  on 
the  insulated  stool,  and  each  particular  hair  of  his 
head  bristled  and  rose,  and  set  up,  as  it  were,  on  its 
own  account.  This  high-flying  condition  of  the  tress- 
es, and  the  singularity  of  the  ornaments  which  ap- 
peared to  be  thrown  at  hap-hazard  into  them,  suggest- 
ed so  oddly  the  idea  of  a  bewitched  person,  that  I 
could  scarcely  converse  with  any  presence  of  mind, 
or  realize  that  these  really  were  the  nice,  well-in- 
formed, sensible  little  girls  of  my  own  neighborhood, 


238  The  Chimney-Corner. 

—  the  good  daughters,  good  sisters,  Sunday-school 
teachers,  and  other  familiar  members  of  our  best  edu- 
cated circles  \  and  I  came  away  from  the  party  in  a 
sort  of  blue  maze,  and  hardly  in  a  state  to  conduct 
myself  with  credit  in  the  examination  through  which 
I  knew  Jennie  would  put  me  as  to  the  appearance  of 
her  different  friends. 

I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  the  glamour  of  fashion  in 
the  eyes  of  girlhood  is  so  complete,  that  the  oddest, 
wildest,  most  uncouth  devices  find  grace  and  favor  in 
the  eyes  of  even  well-bred  girls,  when  once  that  invisi- 
ble, ineffable  aura  has  breathed  over  them  which  de- 
clares them  to  be  fashionable.  They  may  defy  them 
for  a  time,  —  they  may  pronounce  them  horrid  ;  but 
it  is  with  a  secretly  melting  heart,  and  with  a  mental 
reservation  to  look  as  nearly  like  the  abhorred  specta- 
cle as  they  possibly  can  on  the  first  favorable  opportu- 
nity. 

On  the  occasion  of  the  visit  referred  to,  Jennie 
ushered  her  three  friends  in  triumph  into  my  study ; 
and,  in  truth,  the  little  room  seemed  to  be  perfectly 
transformed  by  their  brightness.  My  honest,  nice, 
lovable  little  Yankee-fireside  girls  were,  to  be  sure, 
got  up  in  a  style  that  would  have  done  credit  to 
Madame  Pompadour,  or  any  of  the  most  questionable 
characters  of  the  time  of  Louis  XIV.  or  XV.  They 
were  frizzled  and  powdered,  and  built  up  in  elaborate 


Sources  of  Beauty  in  Dress.  239 

devices ;  they  wore  on  their  hair  flowers,  gems, 
streamers,  tinklers,  humming-birds,  butterflies,  South 
American  beetles,  beads,  bugles,  and  all  imaginable 
rattle-traps,  which  jingled  and  clinked  with  every 
motion ;  and  yet,  as  they  were  three  or  four  fresh, 
handsome,  intelligent,  bright-eyed  girls,  there  was  no 
denying  the  fact  that  they  did  look  extremely  pretty ; 
and  as  they  sailed  hither  and  thither  before  me,  and 
gazed  down  upon  me  in  the  saucy  might  of  their  rosy 
girlhood,  there  was  a  gay  defiance  in  Jennie's  demand, 
"  Now,  papa,  how  do  you  like  us  ? " 

"  Very  charming,"  answered  I,  surrendering  at  dis- 
cretion. 

"  I  told  you>  girls,  that  you  could  convert  him  to 
the  fashions,  if  he  should  once  see  you  in  party  trim." 

"  I  beg  pardon,  my  dear ;  I  am  not  converted  to 
the  fashion,  but  to  you,  and  that  is  a  point  on  which 
I  did  n't  need  conversion ;  but  the  present  fashions, 
even  so  fairly  represented  as  I  see  them,  I  humbly 
confess  I  dislike." 

"OMr.  Crowfield!" 

"  Yes,  my  dears,  I  da  But  then,  I  protest,  I  'm 
not  fairly  treated.  I  think,  for  a  young  American 
girl,  who  looks  as  most  of  my  fair  friends  do  look,  to 
come  down  with  her  bright  eyes  and  all  her  little  pan- 
oply of  graces  upon  an  old  fellow  like  me,  and  expect 
him  to  like  a  fashion  merely  because  sJu  tooks  well 


240  The  Chimney-Comer. 

in  it,  is  all  sheer  nonsense.  Why,  girls,  if  you  wore 
rings  in  your  noses,  and  bangles  on  your  arms  up  to 
your  elbows,  if  you  tied  your  hair  in  a  war-knot  on 
the  top  of  your  heads  like  the  Sioux  Indians,  you 
would  look  pretty  still.  The  question  is  n't,  as  I  view 
it,  whether  you  look  pretty,  —  for  that  you  do,  and 
that  you  will,  do  what  you  please  and  dress  how  you 
will.  The  question  is  whether  you  might  not  look 
prettier,  whether  another  style  of  dress,  and  another 
mode  of  getting  up,  would  not  be  far  more  becoming. 
I  am  one  who  thinks  that  it  would." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Crowfield,  you  positively  are  too  bad," 
said  Humming-Bird,  whose  delicate  head  was  encir- 
cled by  a  sort  of  crapy  cloud  of  bright  hair,  sparkling 
with  gold-dust  and  spangles,  in  the  midst  of  which, 
just  over  her  forehead,  a  gorgeous  blue  butterfly  was 
perched,  while  a  confused  mixture  of  hairs,  gold-pow- 
der, spangles,  stars,  and  tinkling  ornaments  fell  in  a 
sort  of  cataract  down  her  pretty  neck.  "  You  see,  we 
girls  think  everything  of  you ;  and  now  we  don't  like 
it  that  you  don't  like  our  fashions." 

"Why,  my  little  princess,  so  long  as  I  like  you 
better  than  your  fashions,  and  merely  think  they 
are  not  worthy  of  you,  what's  the  harm  ?" 

"  O  yes,  to  be  sure.  You  sweeten  the  dose  to  us 
babies  with  that  sugar-plum.  But  really,  Mr.  Crow- 
field,  why  don't  you  like  the  fashions  ?  " 


Sources  of  Beauty  in  Dress.  241 

"  BecaGse,  to  my  view,  they  are  in  great  part  in 
false  taste,  and  injure  the  beauty  of  the  girls,"  said  I. 
"  They  are  inappropriate  to  their  characters,  and 
make  them  look  like  a  kind  and  class  of  women 
whom  they  do  not,  and  I  trust  never  will,  resemble 
internally,  and  whose  mark  therefore  they  ought  not 
to  bear  externally.  But  there  you  are,  beguiling  me 
into  a  sermon  which  you  will  only  hate  me  in  your 
hearts  for  preaching.  Go  along,  children  !  You  cer- 
tainly look  as  well  as  anybody  can  in  that  style  of 
getting  up ;  so  go  to  your  party,  and  to-morrow  night, 
when  you  are  tired  and  sleepy,  if  you  '11  come  with 
your  crochet,  and  sit  in  my  study,  I  will  read  you 
Christopher  Crowfield's  dissertation  on  dress." 

"  That  will  be  amusing,  to  say  the  least,"  said 
Humm ing-Bird  ;  "  and,  be  sure,  we  will  all  be  here. 
And  mind,  you  have  to  show  good  reasons  for  dislik- 
ing the  present  fashion." 

So  the  next  evening  there  was  a  worsted  party  in 
my  study,  sitting  in  the  midst  of  which  I  read  as 
follows  : 

"  WHAT   ARE   THE   SOURCES    OF    BEAUTY   IN   DRESS. 

"The  first  one  is  appropriateness.  Colors  and 
forms  and  modes,  in  themselves  graceful  or  beautiful, 
can  become  ungraceful  and  ridiculous  simply  through 
inappropriateness.  The  most  lovely  bonnet  that  the 


242  TJic  Chimney-Corner. 

most  approved  modiste  can  invent,  if  worn  on  the 
head  of  a  coarse-faced  Irishwoman  bearing  a  market- 
basket  on  her  arm,  excites  no  emotion  but  that  of  the 
ludicrous.  The  most  elegant  and  brilliant  evening 
dress,  if  worn  in  the  daytime  in  a  railroad  car,  strikes 
every  one  with  a  sense  of  absurdity;  whereas  both 
these  objects  in  appropriate  associations  would  excite 
only  the  idea  of  beauty.  So,  a  mode  of  dress  obvi- 
ously intended  for  driving  strikes  us  as  outre  in  a  par- 
lor ;  and  a  parlor  dress  would  no  less  shock  our  eyes 
on  horseback.  In  short,  the  course  of  this  principle 
through  all  varieties  of  form  can  easily  be  perceived. 
Besides  appropriateness  to  time,  place,  and  .circum- 
stances, there  is  appropriateness  to  age,  position,  and 
character.  This  is  the  foundation  of  all  our  ideas  of 
professional  propriety  in  costume.  %  One  would  not 
like  to  see  a  clergyman  in  his  external  air  and  appoint- 
ments resembling  a  gentleman  of  the  turf;  one  would 
not  wish  a  refined  and  modest  scholar  to  wear  the 
outward  air  of  a  fast  fellow,  or  an  aged  and  venerable 
statesman  to  appear  with  all  the  peculiarities  of  a 
young  dandy.  The  flowers,  feathers,  and  furbelows 
which  a  light-hearted  young  girl  of  seventeen  embel- 
lishes by  the  airy  grace  with  which  she  wears  them, 
are  simply  ridiculous  when  transferred  to  the  toilet 
of  her  serious,  well-meaning  mamma,  who  bears  them 
about  with  an  anxious  face,  merely  because  a  loqua- 


Sources  of  Beauty  in  Dress.  243 

cious  milliner  has  assured  her,  with  many  protesta- 
tions, that  it  is  the  fashion,  and  the  only  thing  remain- 
ing for  her  to  do: 

"•There  are,  again,  modes  of  dress  in  themselves 
very  beautiful  and  very  striking,  which  are  peculiarly 
adapted  to  theatrical  representation  and  to  pictures, 
but  the  adoption  of  which  as  a  part  of  unprofessional 
toilet  produces  a  sense  of  incongruity.  A  mode  of 
dress  may  be  in  perfect  taste  on  the  stage,  that  would 
be  absurd  in  an  evening  party,  absurd  in  the  street, 
absurd,  in  short,  everywhere  else. 

"  Now  you  come  to  my  first  objection  to  our  pres- 
ent American  toilet,  —  its  being  to  a  very  great  extent 
inappropriate  to  our  climate,  to  our  habits  of  life  and 
thought,  and  to  the  whole  structure  of  ideas  On  which 
our  life  is  built.  What  we  want,  apparently,  is  some 
court  of  inquiry  and  adaptation  that  shall  pass  judg- 
ment on  the  fashions  of  other  countries,  and  modify 
them  to  make  them  a  graceful  expression  of  our  own 
national  character,  and  modes  of  thinking  and  living. 
A  certain  class  of  women  in  Paris  at  this  present  hour 
makes  the  fashions  that  rule  the  feminine  world. 
They  are  women  who  live  only  for  the  senses,  with  as 
utter  and  obvious  disregard  of  any  moral  or  intellect- 
ual purpose  to  be  answered  in  living  as  a  paroquet  or 
a  macaw.  They  have  no  family  ties ;  love,  in  its  pure 
domestic  sense,  is  an  impossibility  in  their  lot;  re- 


244  The  Cliiinney-Conier, 

ligion  in  any  sense  is  another  impossibility ;  and  their 
whole  intensity  of  existence,  therefore,  is  concentrated 
on  the  question  of  sensuous  enjoyment,  and  that 
personal  adornment  which  is  necessary  to  secure  it. 
When  the  great,  ruling  country  in  the  world  of  taste 
and  fashion  has  fallen  into  such  a  state  that  the  vir- 
tual leaders  of  fashion  are  women  of  this  character,  it 
is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  fashions  emanating  from 
them  will  be  of  a  kind  well  adapted  to  express  the 
ideas,  the  thoughts,  the  state  of  society,  of  a  great 
Christian  democracy  such  as  ours  ought  to  be. 

"  What  is  called,  for  example,  the  Pompadour  style 
of  dress,  so  much  in  vogue  of  late,  we  can  see  to  be 
perfectly  adapted  to  the  kind  of  existence  led  by  dissi- 
pated women,  whose  life  is  one  revel  of  excitement ; 
and  who,  never  proposing  to  themselves  any  intellect- 
ual employment  or  any  domestic  duty,  can  afford  to 
spend  three  or  four  hours  every  day  under  the  hands 
of  a  waiting-maid,  in  alternately  tangling  and  untang- 
ling their  hair.  Powder,  paint,  gold-dust  and  silver- 
dust,  pomatums,  cosmetics,  are  all  perfectly  appro- 
priate where  the  ideal  of  life  is  to  keep  up  a  false 
show  of  beauty  after  the  true  bloom  is  wasted  by 
dissipation.  The  woman  who  never  goes  to  bed  till 
morning,  who  never  £ven  dresses  herself,  who  never 
takes  a  needle  in  her  hand,  who  never  goes  to  church, 
and  never  entertains  one  serious  idea  of  duty  of  any 


Sources  of  Beauty  in  Dress.  245 

kind,  when  got  up  in  Pompadour  style,  has,  to  say 
the  truth,  the  good  taste  and  merit  of  appropriateness. 
Her  dress  expresses  just  what  she  is,  —  all  false,  all 
artificial,  all  meretricious  and  unnatural ;  no  part  or 
portion  of  her  from  which  it  might  be  inferred  what 
her  Creator  originally  designed  her  to  be. 

"But  when  a  nice  little  American  girl,  who  has 
been  brought  up  to  cultivate  her  mind,  to  refine  her 
taste,  to  care  for  her  health,  to  be  a  helpful  daughter 
and  a  good  sister,  to  visit  the  poor  and  teach  in  Sun- 
day schools ;  when  a  good,  sweet,  modest  little  puss 
of  this  kind  combs  all  her  pretty  hair  backward  till  it 
is  one  mass  of  frowzy  confusion ;  when  she  powders, 
and  paints  under  her  eyes;  when  she  adopts,  with 
eager  enthusiasm,  every  outre,  unnatural  fashion  that 
comes  from  the  most  dissipated  foreign  circles,  —  she 
is  in  bad  taste,  because  she  does  not  represent  either 
her  character,  her  education,  or  her  good  points. 
She  looks  like  a  second-rate  actress,  when  she  is,  in 
fact,  a  most  thoroughly  respectable,  estimable,  lovable 
little  girl,  and  on  the  way,  as  we  poor  fellows  fondly 
hope,  to  bless  some  one  of  us  with  her  tenderness  and 
care  in  some  nice  home  in  the  future. 

"  It  is  not  the  fashion  in  America  for  young  girls  to 
have  waiting-maids,  —  in  foreign  countries  it  is  the 
fashion.  All  this  meretricious  toilet  —  so  elaborate, 
so  complicated,  and  so  contrary  to  nature  —  must  be 


246  The  Chimney-Corner. 

accomplished,  and  is  accomplished,  by  the  busy  little 
fingers  of  each  girl  for  herself;  and  so  it  seems  to  be 
very  evident  that  a  style  of  hair-dressing  which  it  will 
require  hours  to  disentangle,  which  must  injure  and 
in  time  ruin  the  natural  beauty  of  the  hair,  ought  to 
be  one  thing  which  a  well-regulated  court  of  inquiry 
would  reject  in  our  American  fashions. 

"  Again,  the  genius  of  American  life  is  for  simpli- 
city and  absence  of  ostentation.  We  have  no  parade 
of  office  ;  our  public  men  wear  no  robes,  no  stars, 
garters,  collars,  &c. ;  and  it  would,  therefore,  be  in 
good  taste  in  our  women  to  cultivate  simple  styles  of 
dress.  Now  I  object  to  the  present  fashions,  as 
adopted  from  France,  that  they  are  flashy  and  theatri- 
cal. Having  their  origin  with  a  community  whose 
senses  are  blunted,  drugged,  and  deadened  with  dis- 
sipation and  ostentation,  they  reject  the  simpler  forms 
of  beauty,  and  seek  for  startling  effects,  for  odd  and 
unexpected  results.  The  contemplation  of  one  of 
our  fashionable  churches,  at  the  hour  when  its  fair 
occupants  pour  forth,  gives  one  a  great  deal  of  sur- 
prise. The  toilet  there  displayed  might  have  been 
in  good  keeping  among  showy  Parisian  women  in  an 
opera-house  ;  but  even  their  original  inventors  would 
have  been  shocked  at  the  idea  of  carrying  them  into 
a  church.  The  rawness  of  our  American  mind  as  to 
the  subject  of  propriety  in  dress  is  nowhere  more 


f          Sources  of  Beauty  in  Dress.  247 

shown  than  in  the  fact  that  no  apparent  distinction  is 
made  between  church  and  opera-house  in  the  adapta- 
tion of  attire.  Very  estimable,  and,  we  trust,  very 
religious  young  women  sometimes  enter  the  house  of 
God  in  a  costume  which  makes  their  utterance  of  the 
words  of  the  litany  and  the  acts  of  prostrate  devotion 
in  the  service  seem  almost  burlesque.  When  a  brisk 
little  creature  comes  into  a  pew  with  hair  frizzed  till 
it  stands  on  end  in  a  most  startling  manner,  rattling 
strings  of  beads  and  bits  of  tinsel,  mounting  over  all 
some  pert  little  hat  with  a  red  or  green  feather  stand- 
ing saucily  upright  in  front,  she  may  look  exceedingly 
pretty  and  piquante;  and,  if  she  came  there  for  a 
game  of  croquet  or  a  tableau-party,  would  be  all  in 
very  good  taste;  but  as  she  comes  to  confess  that 
she  is  a  miserable  sinner,  that  she  has  done  the  things 
she  ought  not  to  have  done  and  left  undone  the  things 
she  ought  to  have  done,  —  as  she  takes  upon  her  lips 
most  solemn  and  tremendous  words,  whose  meaning 
runs  far  beyond  life  into  a  sublime  eternity,  —  there 
is  a  discrepancy  which  would  be  ludicrous  if  it  were 
not  melancholy. 

"  One  is  apt  to  think,  at  first  view,  that  St.  Jerome 
was  right  in  saying, 

'  She  who  comes  in  glittering  veil 
To  mourn  her  frailty,  still  is  frail.' 

But  §t.  Jerome  was   in   the  wrong,  after  all ;  for  a 


248  The  Chimney-Corner. 

flashy,  unsuitable  attire  in  church  is  not  always  a 
mark  of  an  undevout  or  entirely  worldly  mind ;  it  is 
simply  a  mark  of  a  raw,  uncultivated  taste.  In  Italy, 
the  ecclesiastical  law  prescribing  a  uniform  black 
dress  for  the  churches  gives  a  sort  of  education  to 
European  ideas  of  propriety  in  toilet,  which  prevents 
churches  from  being  made  theatres  for  the  same  kind 
of  display  which  is  held  to  be  in  good  taste  at  places 
of  public  amusement.  It  is  but  justice  to  the  invent- 
ors of  Parisian  fashions  to  say,  that,  had  they  ever 
had  the  smallest  idea  of-  going  to  church  and  Sunday 
school,  as  our  good  girls  do,  they  would  immediately 
have  devised  toilets  appropriate  to  such  exigencies. 
If  it  were  any  part  of  their  plan  of  life  to  appear 
statedly  in  public  to  confess  themselves  'miserable 
sinners,'  we  should  doubtless  have  sent  over  here  the 
design  of  some  graceful  penitential  habit,  which  would 
give  our  places  of  worship  a  much  more  appropriate 
air  than  they  now  have.  As  it  is,  it  would  form  a 
subject  for  such  a  court  of  inquiry  and  adaptation  as 
we  have  supposed,  to  draw  a  line  between  the  cos- 
tume of  the  theatre  and  the  church. 

"In  the  same  manner,  there  is  a  want  of  appro- 
priateness in  the  costume  of  our  American  women, 
who  display  in  the  street  promenade  a  style  of  dress 
and  adornment  originally  intended  for  showy  carriage 
drives  in  such  great  exhibition  grounds  as  the  Bois  de 


Sources  of  Beauty  in  Dress.  249 

Boulogne.  The  makers  of  Parisian  fashions  are  not 
generally  walkers.  They  do  not,  with  all  their  ex- 
travagance, have  the  bad  taste  to  trail  yards  of  silk 
and  velvet  over  the  mud  and  dirt  of  a  pavement, 
or  promenade  the  street  in  a  costume  so  pronounced 
and  striking  as  to  draw  the  involuntary  glance  of 
every  eye  ;  and  the  showy  toilets  displayed  on  the 
pave  by  American  young  women  have  more  than  once 
exposed  them  to  misconstruction  in  the  eyes  of  for- 
eign observers. 

"  Next  to  appropriateness,  the  second  requisite  to 
beauty  in  dress  I  take  to  be  unity  of  effect.  In 
speaking  of  the  arrangement  of  rooms  in  the  '  House 
and  Home  Papers,'  I  criticised  some  apartments  • 
wherein  were  many  showy  articles  of  furniture,  and 
much  expense  had  been  incurred,  because,  with  all 
this,  there  was  no  unity  of  result.  The  carpet  was 
costly,  and  in  itself  handsome  ;  the  paper  was  also  in 
itself  handsome  and  costly ;  the  tables  and  chairs 
also  in  themselves  very  elegant ;  and  yet,  owing  to 
a  want  of  any  unity  of  idea,  any  grand  harmonizing 
tint  of  color,  or  method  of  arrangement,  the  rooms 
had  a  jumbled,  confused  air,  and  nothing  about  them 
seemed  particularly  pretty  or  effective.  I  instanced 
rooms  where  thousands  of  dollars  had  been  spent, 
which,  because  of  this  defect,  never  excited  admira- 
tion ;  and  others  in  which  the  furniture  was  of  the 
u* 


250  The  Chimney-Corner. 

cheapest  description,  but  which  always  gave  imme- 
diate and  universal  pleasure.  The  same  rule  holds 
good  in  dress.  As  in  ever}'  apartment,  so  in  every 
toilet,  there  should  be  one  ground  tone  or  dominant 
color,  which  should  rule  all  the  others,  and  there 
should  be  a  general  style  of  idea  to  which  everything 
should  be  subjected. 

"  We  may  illustrate  the  effect  of  this  principle  in  a 
very  familiar  case.  It  is  generally  conceded  that  the 
majority  of  women  look  better  in  mourning  than  they 
do  in  their  ordinary  apparel ;  a  comparatively  plain 
person  looks  almost  handsome  in  simple  black.  Now 
why  is  this  ?  Simply  because  mourning  requires  a 
"severe  uniformity  of  color  and  idea,  and  forbids  the 
display  of  that  variety  of  colors  and  objects  which  go 
to  make  up  the  ordinary  female  costume,  and  which 
very  few  women  have  such  skill  in  using  as  to  pro- 
duce really  beautiful  effects. 

"Very  similar  results  have  been  attained  by  the 
Quaker  costume,  which,  in  spite  of  the  quaint  severity 
of  the  forms  to  which  it  adhered,  has  always  had  a 
remarkable  degree  of  becomingness,  because  of  its 
restriction  to  a  few  simple  colors  and  to  the  absence 
of  distracting  ornament. 

"  But  the  same  effect  which  is  produced  in  mourn- 
ing or  the  Quaker  costume  may  be  preserved  in  a 
style  of  dress  admitting  color  and  ornamentation.  A 


Sources  of  Beauty  in  Dress.  251 

dress  may  have  the  richest  fulness  of  color,  and  still 
the  tints  may  be  so  chastened  and  subdued  as  to 
produce  the  impression  of  a  severe  simplicity.  Sup- 
pose, for  example,  a  golden-haired  blonde  chooses  for 
the  ground-tone  of  her  toilet  a  deep  shade  of  purple, 
such  as  affords  a  good  background  for  the  hair  and 
complexion.  The  larger  draperies  of  the  costume 
being  of  this  color,  the  bonnet  may  be  of  a  lighter 
shade  of  the  same,  ornamented  with  lilac  hyacinths, 
shading  insensibly  towards  rose- color.  The  effect  of 
such  a  costume  is  simple,  even  though  there  be  much 
ornament,  because  it  is  ornament  artistically  disposed 
towards  a  general  result. 

"  A  dark  shade  of  green  being  chosen  as  the 
ground-tone  of  a  dress,  the  ^whole  costume  may,  in 
like  manner,  be  worked  up  through  lighter  and  bright- 
er shades  of  green,  in  which  rose-colored  flowers  may 
appear  with  the  same  impression  of  simple  appro- 
priateness that  is  made  by  the  pink  blossom  over  the 
green  leaves  of  a  rose.  There  have  been  times  in 
France  when  the  study  of  color  produced  artistic 
effects  in  costume  worthy  of  attention,  and  resulted 
in  styles  of  dress  of  real  beauty.  But  the  present 
corrupted  state  of  morals  there  has  introduced^  cor- 
rupt taste  in  dress  ;  and  it  is  worthy  of  thought  that 
the  decline  of  moral  purity  in  society  is  often  marked 
bv  the  deterioration  of  the  sense  of  artistic  beauty. 


252  The  Chimney-Corner. 

Corrupt  and  dissipated  social  epochs  produce  corrupt 
styles  of  architecture  and  corrupt  styles  of  drawing 
and  painting,  as  might  easily  be  illustrated  by  the 
history  of  art.  When  the  leaders  of  society  have 
blunted  their  finer  perceptions  by  dissipation  and 
immorality,  they  are  incapable  of  feeling  the  beauties 
which  come  from  delicate  concords  and  truly  artistic 
combinations.  They  verge  towards  barbarism,  and 
require  things  that  are  strange,  odd,  dazzling,  and 
peculiar  to  captivate  their  jaded  senses.  Such  we 
take  to  be  the  condition  of  Parisian  society  now. 
The  tone  of  it  is  given  by  women  who  are  essentially 
impudent  and  vulgar,  who  override  and  overrule,  by 
the  mere  brute  force  of  opulence  and  luxury,  women 
of  finer  natures  and  moral  tone.  The  court  of  France 
is  a  court  of  adventurers,  of  parvenus ;  and  the  pal- 
aces, the  toilets,  the  equipage,  the  entertainments,  of 
the  mistresses  outshine  those  of  the  lawful  wives. 
Hence  comes  a  style  of  dress  which  is  in  itself  vulgar, 
ostentatious,  pretentious,  without  simplicity,  without 
unity,  seeking  to  dazzle  by  strange  combinations  and 
daring  contrasts. 

"Now,  when  the  fashions  emanating  from  such  a 
state  of  society  come  to  our  country,  where  it  has 
been  too  much  the  habit  to  put  on  and  wear,  without 
dispute  and  without  inquiry,  any  or  everything  that 
France  sends,  the  results  produced  are  often  things  to 


Sources  of  Bcaiity  in  Dress.  253 

make  one  wonder.  A  respectable  man,  sitting  quietly 
in  church  or  other  public  assembly,  may  be  pardoned 
sometimes  for  indulging  a  silent  sense  of  the  ridic- 
ulous in  the  contemplation  of  the  forest  of  bonnets 
which  surround  him,  as  he  humbly  asks  himself  the 
question,  Were  these  meant  to  cover  the  head,  to  de- 
fend it,  or  to  ornament  it?  and  if  they  are  intended 
for  any  of  these  purposes,  how  ? 

"  I  confess,  to  me  nothing  is  so  surprising  as  the 
sort  of  things  which  well-bred  women  serenely  wear 
on  their  heads  with  the  idea  that  they  are  ornaments. 
On  my  right  hand  sits  a  good-looking  girl  with  a  thing 
on  her  head  which  seems  to  consist  mostly  of  bunches 
of  grass,  straws,  with  a  confusion  of  lace,  in  which  sits 
a  draggled  bird,  looking  as  if  the  cat  had  had  him 
before  the  lady.  In  front  of  her  sits  another,  who  has 
a  glittering  confusion  of  beads  swinging  hither  and 
thither  from  a  jaunty  little  structure  of  black  and  red 
velvet.  An  anxious-looking  matron  appears  under 
the  high  eaves  of  a  bonnet  with  a  gigantic  crimson 
rose  crushed  down  into  a  mass  of  tangled  hair.  She 
is  ornamented  7  she  has  no  doubt  about  it. 

"  The  fact  is,  that  a  style  of  dress  which  allows  the 
use  of  everything  in  heaven  above  or  earth  beneath 
requires  more  taste  and  skill  in  disposition  than  falls 
to  the  lot  of  most  of  the  female  sex  to  make  it  even 
tolerable.  In  consequence,  the  flowers,  fruits,  grass, 


254  The  Chimney-Corner. 

hay,  straw,  oats,  butterflies,  beads,  birds,  tinsel, 
streamers,  jinglers,  lace,  bugles,  crape,  which  seem  to 
be  appointed  to  form  a  covering  for  the  female  head, 
very  often  appear  in  combinations  so  singular,  and  the 
results,  taken  in  connection  with  all  the  rest  of  the 
costume,  are  such,  that  we  really  think  the  people 
who  usually  assemble  in  a  Quaker  meeting-house  are, 
with  their  entire  absence  of  ornament,  more  becom- 
ingly attired  than  the  majority  of  our  public  audiences. 
For  if  one  considers  his  own  impression  after  having 
seen  an  assemblage  of  women  dressed  in  Quaker  cos- 
tume, he  will  find  it  to  be,  not  of  a  confusion  of  twink- 
ling finery,  but  of  many  fair,  sweet  faces,  of  charming, 
nice-looking  women,  and  not  of  articles  of  dress. 
Now  this  shows  that  the  severe  dress,  after  all,  has 
better  answered  the  true  purpose  of  dress,  in  setting 
forth  the  woman,  than  our  modern  costume,  where 
the  woman  is  but  one  item  in  a  flying  mass  of  colors 
and  forms,  all  of  which  distract  attention  from  the 
faces  they  are  supposed  to  adorn.  The  dress  of  the 
Philadelphian  ladies  has  always  been  celebrated  for 
its  elegance  of  effect,  from  the  fact,  probably,  that 
the  early  Quaker  parentage  of  the  city  formed  the 
eye  and  the  taste  of  its  women  for  uniform  and  simple 
styles  of  color,  and  for  purity  and  chastity  of  lines. 
The  most  perfect  toilets  that  have  ever  been  achieved 
in  America  have  probably  been  those  of  the  class 


Sources  of  Beattty  in  Dress.  255 

familiarly  called  the  gay  Quakers,  —  children  of  Qua- 
ker families,  who,  while  abandoning  the  strict  rules 
of  the  sect,  yet  retain  their  modest  and  severe  reti- 
cence, relying  on  richness  of  material,  and  soft,  har- 
monious coloring,  rather  than  striking  and  dazzling 
ornament 

"  The  next  source  of  beauty  in  dress  is  the  impres- 
sion of  truthfulness  and  reality.  It  is  a  well-known 
principle  of  the  fine  arts,  in  all  their  branches,  that 
all  shams  and  mere  pretences  are  to  be  rejected,  —  a 
truth  which  Ruskin  has  shown  with  the  full  lustre  of 
his  many-colored  prose-poetry.  As  stucco  pretending 
to  be  marble,  and  graining  pretending  to  be  wood, 
are  in  false  taste  in  building,  so  false  jewelry  and 
cheap  fineries  of  every  kind  are  in  bad  taste ;  so  also 
is  powder  instead  of  natural  complexion,  false  hair 
instead  of  real,  and  flesh-painting  of  every  description. 
I  have  even  the  hardihood  to  think  and  assert,  in  the 
presence  of  a  generation  whereof  not  one  woman  in 
twenty  wears  her  own  hair,  that  the  simple,  short- 
cropped  locks  of  Rosa  Bonheur  are  in  a  more  beauti- 
ful style  of  hair-dressing  than  the  most  elaborate  edi- 
fice of  curls,  rats,  and  waterfalls  that  is  erected  on 
any  fair  head  now-a-days." 

"  O  Mr.  Crowfield  !  you  hit  us  all  now,"  cried  sev- 
eral voices. 

"  I  know  it,  girls,  —  I  know  it.     I  admit  that  you 


256  TJie  Chimney-Comer. 

are  all  looking  very  pretty;  but  I  do  maintain  that 
you  are  none  of  you  doing  yourselves  justice,  and  that 
Nature,  if  you  would  only  follow  her,  would  do  better 
for  you  than  all  these  elaborations.  A  short  crop  of 
your  own  hair,  that  you  could  brush  out  in  ten  min- 
utes every  morning,  would  have  a  more  real,  healthy 
beauty  than  the  elaborate  structures  which  cost  you 
hours  of  time,  and  give  you  the  headache  besides. 
I  speak  of  the  short  crop,  —  to  put  the  case  at  the 
very  lowest  figure,  —  for  many  of  you  have  lovely 
hair  of  different  lengths,  and  susceptible  of  a  variety 
of  arrangements,  if  you  did  not  suppose  yourself 
obliged  to  build  after  a  foreign  pattern,  instead  of 
following  out  the  intentions  of  the  great  Artist  who 
made  you. 

"  Is  it  necessary  absolutely  that  every  woman  and 
girl  should  look  exactly  like  every  other  one  ?  There 
are  women  whom  Nature  makes. with  wavy  or  curly 
hair :  let  them  follow  her.  There  are  those  whom 
she  makes  with  soft  and  smooth  locks,  and  with  whom 
crinkling  and  craping  is  only  a  sham.  They  look 
very  pretty  with  it,  to  be  sure ;  but,  after  all,  is  there 
but  one  style  of  beauty?  and  might  they  not  look 
prettier  in  cultivating  the  style  which  Nature  seemed 
to  have  intended  for  them  ? 

"  As  to  the  floods  of  false  jewelry,  glass  beads,  and 
tinsel  finery  which  seem  to  be  sweeping  over  the  toilet 


Sources  of  Beauty  in  Dress.  257 

of  our  women,  I  must  protest  that  they  are  vulgariz- 
ing the  taste,  and  having  a  seriously  bad  effect  on  the 
delicacy  of  artistic  perception.  It  is  almost  impossi- 
ble to  manage  such  material  and  give  any  kind  of 
idea  of  neatness  or  purity  ;  for  the  least  wear  takes 
away  their  newness.  And  of  all  disreputable  things, 
tumbled,  rumpled,  and  tousled  finery  is  the  most  dis- 
reputable. A  simple  white  muslin,  that  can  come 
fresh  from  the  laundry  every  week,  is,  in  point  of 
real  taste,  worth  any  amount  of  spangled  tissues.  A 
plain  straw  bonnet,  with  only  a  ribbon  across  it,  is  in 
reality  in  better  taste  than  rubbishy  birds  or  butterflies, 
or  tinsel  ornaments. 

"  Finally,  girls,  don't  dress  at  haphazard ;  for  dress, 
so  far  from  being  a  matter  of  small  consequence,  is  in 
reality  one  of  the  fine  arts,  —  so  far  from  trivial,  that 
each  country  ought  to  have  a  style  of  its  own,  and 
each  individual  such  a  liberty  of  modification  of  the 
general  fashion  as  suits  and  befits  her  person,  her  age, 
her  position  in  life,  and  the  kind  of  character  she 
wishes  to  maintain. 

"The  only  motive  in  toilet  which  seems  to  have 
obtained  much  as  yet  among  young  girls  is  the  very 
vague  impulse  to  look  '  stylish,'  —  a  desire  which  must 
answer  for  more  vulgar  dressing  than  one  would  wish 
to  see.  If  girls  would  rise  above  this,  and  desire  to 
express  by  their  dress  the  attributes  of  true  ladyhood, 

Q 


258  The  Chimney-Comer. 

nicety  of  eye,  fastidious  neatness,  purity  of  taste, 
truthfulness,  and  sincerity  of  nature,  they  might  form, 
each  one  for  herself,  a  style  having  its  own  individual 
beauty,  incapable  of  ever  becoming  common  and 
vulgar. 

"  A  truly  trained  taste  and  eye  would  enable  a  lady 
to  select  from  the  permitted  forms  of  fashion  such  as 
might  be  modified  to  her  purposes,  always  remember- 
ing that  simplicity  is  safe,  that  to  attempt  little,  and 
succeed,  is  better  than  to  attempt  a  great  deal,  and 
fail. 

"  And  now,  girls,  I  will  finish  by  reciting  to  you  the 
lines  old  Ben  Jonson  addressed  to  the  pretty  girls 
of  his  time,  which  form  an  appropriate  ending  to  my 
remarks. 

'  Still  to  be  dressed 
As  you  were  going  to  a  feast ; 
Still  to  be  powdered,  still  perfumed  ; 
Lady,  it  is  to  be  presumed, 
Though  art's  hid  causes  are  not  found, 
All  is  not  sweet,  all  is  not  sound. 

'  Give  me  a  look,  give  me  a  face, 
That  makes  simplicity  a  grace,  — 
Robes  loosely  flowing,  hair  as  free  : 
Such  sweet  neglect  more  taketh  me 
Than  all  the  adulteries  of  art, 
That  strike  my  eyes,  but  not  my  heart.'  " 


XI. 

THE  CATHEDRAL. 

"  T   AM  going  to   build   a  cathedral  one  of  these 
J-    days,"  said  I  to  my  wife,  as  I  sat  looking  at  the 
slant  line  of  light  made  by  the  afternoon  sun  on  our 
picture  of  the  Cathedral  of  Milan. 

"  That  picture  is  one  of  the  most  poetic  things  you 
have  among  your  house  ornaments,"  said  Rudolph. 
"  Its  original  is  the  world's  chief  beauty,  —  a  tribute  to 
religion  such  as  Art  never  gave  before  and  never  can 
again,  —  as  much  before  the  Pantheon,  as  the  Alps, 
with  their  virgin  snows  and  glittering  pinnacles,  are 
above  all  temples  made  with  hands.  Say  what  you 
will,  those  Middle  Ages  that  you  call  Dark  had  a 
glory  of  faith  that  never  will  be  seen  in  our  days  of 
cotton-mills  and  Manchester  prints.  Where  will  you 
marshal  such  an  army  of  saints  as  stands  in  yonder 
white-marble  forest,  visibly  transfigured  and  glorified 
in  that  celestial  Italian  air?  Saintship  belonged  to 
the  mediaeval  Church;  the  heroism  of  religion  has 
died  with  it." 


260  TJie  Chimney-Corner. 

"  That 's  just  like  one  of  your  assertions,  Rudolph," 
said  I.  "You  might  as  well  say  that  Nature  has 
never  made  any  flowers  since  Linnaeus  shut  up  his 
herbarium.  We  have  no  statues  and  pictures  of 
modern  saints,  but  saints  themselves,  thank  God, 
have  never  been  wanting.  '  As  it  was  in  the  begin- 
ning, is  now,  and  ever  shall  be  — ' " 

"  But  what  about  your  cathedral  ? "  said  my  wife. 

"  O  yes !  —  my  cathedral,  yes.  When  my  stocks  in 
cloud-land  rise,  I  '11  build  a  cathedral  larger  than 
Milan's ;  and  the  men,  but  more  particularly  the  wom- 
en, thereon,  shall  be  those  who  have  done  even  more 
than  St.  Paul  tells  of  in  the  saints  of  old,  who  '  sub- 
dued kingdoms,  wrought  righteousness,  quenched  the 
violence  of  fire,  escaped  the  edge  of  the  sword,  out  of 
weakness  were  made  strong,  waxed  valiant  in  fight, 
turned  to  flight  the  armies  of  the  aliens.'  I  am  not 
now  thinking  of  Florence  Nightingale,  nor  of  the  host 
of  women  who  have  been  walking  worthily  in  her 
footsteps,  but  of  nameless  saints  of  more  retired  and 
private  state,  —  domestic  saints,  who  have  tended 
children  not  their  own  through  whooping-cough  and 
measles,  and  borne  the  unruly  whims  of  fretful  inva- 
lids,—  stocking-darning,  shirt-making  saints, — saints 
who  wore  no  visible  garment  of  hair-cloth,  bound 
themselves  with  no  belts  of  spikes  and  nails,  yet  in 
their  inmost  souls  were  marked  and  seared  with  the 


The  Cathedral.  261 

red  cross  of  a  life-long  self-sacrifice,  —  saints  for 
whom  the  mystical  terms  self-annihilation  and  self- 
crucifixion  had  a  real  and  tangible  meaning,  all  the 
stronger  because  their  daily  death  was  marked  by  no 
outward  sign.  No  mystical  rites  consecrated  them ; 
no  organ-music  burst  forth  in  solemn  rapture  to  wel- 
come them  ;  no  habit  of  their  order  proclaimed  to 
themselves  and  the  world  that  they  were  the  elect  of 
Christ,  the  brides  of  another  life  :  but  small  eating 
cares,  daily  prosaic  duties,  the  petty  friction  of  all 
the  littleness  and  all  the  inglorious  annoyances  of 
every  day,  were  as  dust  that  hid  the  beauty  and  gran- 
deur of  their  calling  even  from  themselves ;  they 
walked  unknown  even  to  their  households,  unknown 
even  to  their  own  souls  ;  but  when  the  Lord  comes  to 
build  his  New  Jerusalem,  we  shall  find  many  a  white 
stone  with  a  new  name  thereon,  and  the  record  of 
deeds  and  words  which  only  He  that  seeth  in  secret 
knows.  Many  a  humble  soul  will  be  amazed  to  find 
that  the  seed  it  sowed  in  such  weakness,  in  the  dust 
of  daily  life,  has  blossomed  into  immortal  flowers 
under  the  eye  of  the  Lord. 

"  When  I  build  my  cathedral,  that  woman,"  I  said, 
pointing  to  a  small  painting  by  the  fire,  "  shall  be 
among  the  first  of  my  saints.  You  see  her  there,  in 
an  every-day  dress-cap  with  a  mortal  thread-lace 
border,  and  with  a  very  ordinary  worked  collar,  fast- 


262  The  Chimney-Corner. 

ened  by  a  visible  and  terrestrial  breastpin.  There  is 
no  nimbus  around  her  head,  no  sign  of  the  cross 
upon  her  breast ;  her  hands  are  clasped  on  no  cruci- 
fix or  rosary.  Her  clear,  keen,  hazel  eye  looks  as  if 
it  could  sparkle  with  mirthfulness,  as  in  fact  it 
could  ;  there  are  in  it  both  the  subtile  flash  of  wit  and 
the  subdued  light  of  humor ;  and  though  the  whole 
face  smiles,  it  has  yet  a  certain  decisive  firmness  that 
speaks  the  soul  immutable  in  good.  That  woman 
shall  be  the  first  saint  in  my  cathedral,  and  her  name 
shall  be  recorded  as  Saint  Esther.  What  makes  saint- 
liness  in  my  view,  as  distinguished  from  ordinary 
goodness,  is  a  certain  quality  of  magnanimity  and 
greatness  of  soul  that  brings  life  within  the  circle  of 
the  heroic.  To  be  really  great  in  little  things,  to  be 
truly  noble  and  heroic  in  the  insipid  details  of  every- 
day life,  is  a  virtue  so  rare  as  to  be  worthy  of  canoni- 
zation,—  and  this  virtue  was  hers.  New  England 
Puritanism  must  be  credited  with  the  making  of  many 
such  women.  Severe  as  was  her  discipline,  and  harsh 
as  seems  now  her  rule,  •  we  have  yet  to  see  whether 
women  will  be  born  of  modern  systems  of  tolerance 
and  indulgence  equal  to  those  grand  ones  of  the  olden 
times  whose  places  now  know  them  no  more.  The 
inconceivable  austerity  and  solemnity  with  which  Pu- 
ritanism invested  this  mortal  life,  the  awful  grandeur 
of  the  themes  which  it  made  household  words,  the 


„  The  Cathedral.  263 

sublimity  of  the  issues  which  it  hung  upon  the  com- 
monest acts  of  our  earthly  existence,  created  charac- 
ters of  more  than  Roman  strength  and  greatness  ;  and 
the  good  men  and  women  of  Puritan  training  excelled 
the  saints  of  the  Middle  Ages,  as  a  soul  fully  devel- 
oped intellectually,  educated  to  closest  thought,  and 
exercised  in  reasoning,  is  superior  to  a  soul  great 
merely  through  impulse  and  sentiment. 

"  My  earliest  recollections  of  Aunt  Esther,  for  so 
our  saint  was  known,  were  of  a  bright-faced,  cheerful, 
witty,  quick-moving  little  middle-aged  person,  who 
came  into  our  house  like  a  good  fairy  whenever  there 
was  a  call  of  sickness  or  trouble.  If  an  accident 
happened  in  the  great  roistering  family  of  eight  or 
ten  children,  (and  when  was  not  something  happening 
to  some  of  us  ? )  and  we  were  shut  up  in  a  sick-room, 
then  duly  as  daylight  came  the  quick  step  and  cheer- 
ful face  of  Aunt  Esther,  —  not  solemn  and  lugubrious 
like  so  many  sick-room  nurses,  but  with  a  never-fail- 
ing flow  of  wit  and  story  that  could  beguile  even  the 
most  doleful  into  laughing  at  their  own  afflictions.  I 
remember  how  a  fit  of  the  quinsy  —  most  tedious  of 
all  sicknesses  to  an  active  child  —  was  gilded  and 
glorified  into  quite  a  fete  by  my  having  Aunt  Esther 
all  to  myself  for  two  whole  days,  with  nothing  to  do 
but  amuse  me.  •  She  charmed  me  into  smiling  at  the 
very  pangs  which  had  made  me  weep  before,  and  of 


264  The  CJdmncy-Corner. 

which  she  described  her  own  experiences  in  a  manner 
to  make  me  think  that,  after  all,  the  quinsy  was  some- 
thing with  an  amusing  side  to  it.  Her  knowledge  of 
all  sorts  of  medicines,  gargles,  and  alleviatives,  her 
perfect  familiarity  with  every  canon  and  law  of  good 
nursing  and  tending,  was  something  that  could  only 
have  come  from  long  experience  in  those  good  old 
New  England  days  when  there  were  no  nurses  recog- 
nized as  a  class  in  the  land,  but  when  watching  and 
the  care  of  the  sick  were  among  those  offices  of 
Christian  life  which  the  families  of  a  neighborhood 
reciprocally  rendered  each  other.  Even  from  early 
youth  she  had  obeyed  a  special  vocation  as  sister  of 
charity  in  many  a  sick-room,  and,  with  the  usual  keen 
intelligence  of  New  England,  had  widened  her  powers 
of  doing  good  by  the  reading  of  medical  and  physio- 
logical works.  Her  legends  of  nursing  in  those  days 
of  long  typhus-fever  and  other  formidable  and  pro- 
tracted forms  of  disease  were  to  our  ears  quite  won- 
derful, and  we  regarded  her  as  a  sort  of  patron  saint 
of  the  sick-room.  She  seemed  always  so  cheerful,  so 
bright,  and  so  devoted,  that  it  never  occurred  to  us 
youngsters  to  doubt  that  she  enjoyed,  above  all  things, 
being  with  us,  waiting  on  us  all  day,  watching  over  us 
by  night,  telling  us  stories,  and  answering,  in  her 
lively  and  always  amusing  and  instructive  way,  that 
incessant  fire  of  questions  with  which  a  child  perse- 
cutes a  grown  person. 


The  Cathedral.  265 

"  Sometimes,  as  a  reward  of  goodness,  we  were 
allowed  to  visit  her  in  her  own  room,  a  neat  little 
parlor  in  the  neighborhood,  whose  windows  looked 
down  a  hillside  on  one  hand,  under  the  boughs  of  an 
apple  orchard,  where  daisies  and  clover  and  bobolinks 
always  abounded  in  summer  time,  and,  on  the  other, 
faced  the  street,  with  a  green  yard  flanked  by  one  or 
two  shady  elms  between  them  and  the  street.  No 
nun's  cell  was  ever  neater,  no  bee's  cell  ever  more 
compactly  and  carefully  arranged  ;  and  to  us,  familiar 
with  the  confusion  of  a  great  family  of  little  ones, 
there  was  something  always  inviting  about  its  stillness, 
its  perfect  order,  and  the  air  of  thoughtful  repose  that 
breathed  over  it.  She  lived  there  in  perfect  inde- 
pendence, doing,  as  it  was  her  delight  to  do,  every 
office  of  life  for  herself.  She  was  her  own  cook,  her 
own  parlor  and  chamber  maid,  her  own  laundress ; 
and  very  faultless  the  cooking,  washing,  ironing,  and 
care  of  her  premises  were.  A  slice  of  Aunt  Esther's 
gingerbread,  one  of  Aunt  Esther's  cookies,  had,  we  all 
believed,  certain  magical  properties  such  as  belonged 
to  no  other  mortal  mixture.  Even  a  handful  of  wal- 
nuts that  were  brought  from  the  depths  of  her  mys- 
terious closet  had  virtues  in  our  eyes  such  as  no  other 
walnuts  could  approach.  The  little  shelf  of  books 
that  hung  suspended  by  cords  against  her  wall  was 
sacred  in  our  regard  ;  the  volumes  were  like  no  other 

12 


266  The  Chimney-Corner. 

books  ;  and  we  supposed  that  she  derived  from  them 
those  stores  of  knowledge  on  all  subjects  which  she 
unconsciously  dispensed  among  us,  —  for  she  was 
always  telling  us  something  of  metals,  or  minerals,  or 
gems,  or  plants,  or  animals;  which  awakened  our  curi- 
osity, stimulated  our  inquiries,  and,  above  all,  led  us  to 
wonder  where  she  had  learned  it  all.  Even  the  slight 
restrictions  which  her  neat  habits  imposed  on  our 
breezy  and  turbulent  natures  seemed  all  quite  graceful 
and  becoming.  It  was  right,  in  our  eyes,  to  cleanse 
our  shoes  on  scraper  and  mat  with  extra  diligence,  and 
then  to  place  a  couple  of  chips  under  the  heels  of  our 
boots  when  we  essayed  to  dry  our  feet  at  her  spotless 
hearth.  We  marvelled  to  see  our  own  faces  reflected 
in  a  thousand  smiles  and  winks  from  her  bright  brass 
andirons,  —  such  andirons  we  thought  were  seen  on 
earth  in  no  other  place,  —  and  a  pair  of  radiant  brass 
candlesticks,  that  illustrated  the  mantel-piece,  were 
viewed  with  no  less  respect. 

"  Aunt  Esther's  cat  was  a  model  for  all  cats,  —  so 
sleek,  so  intelligent,  so  decorous  and  well-trained, 
always  occupying  exactly  her  own  cushion  by  the  fire, 
and  never  transgressing  in  one  iota  the  proprieties 
belonging  to  a  cat  of  good  breeding.  She  shared  our 
affections  with  her  mistress,  and  we  were  allowed  as  a 
great  favor  and  privilege,  now  and  then,  to  hold  the 
favorite  on  our  knees,  and  stroke  her  satin  coat  to  a 
smoother  gloss. 


The  Cathedral.  267 

"  But  it  was  not  for  cats  alone  that  she  had  attrac- 
tions. She  was  in  sympathy  and  fellowship  with 
everything  that  moved  and  lived  ;  knew  every  bird 
and  beast  with  a  friendly  acquaintanceship.  The 
squirrels  that  inhabited  the  trees  in  the  front-yard 
were  won  in  time  by  her  blandishments  to  come  and 
perch  on  her  window-sills,  and  thence,  by  trains  of 
nuts  adroitly  laid,  t<?  disport  themselves  on  the  shining 
cherry  tea-table  thdt  stood  betweei  the  windows  ;  and 
we  youngsters  used  to  sit  entrant  :d  with  delight  as 
they  gambolled  and  waved  their  fo  thery  tails  in  frolic- 
some security,  eating  rations  of  \  /ngerbread  and  bits 
of  seed-cake  with  as  good  a  reli.'  n  as  any  child  among 
us. 

"  The  habits,  the  rights  thf  wrongs,  the  wants,  and 
the  sufferings  oi  the  anin  d  reation  formed  the  sub- 
ject of  many  an  intere?  in£  conversation  with  her ; 
and  we  boys,  with  the  c  tturat  male  instinct  of  hunting, 
trapping,  and  pursuing  wen  often  made  to  pause  in 
our  career,  rememberii.^  hej  pleas  for  the  dumb  things 
which  could  not  speak  for  '  lemselves. 

"Her  little  heimit.ge  was  the  favorite  resort  of 
numerous  fri-nds.  Ma  iy  of  the  young  girls  who 
attended  the  village  ac-.demy  made  her  acquaintance, 
and  nothing  delight*  d  aer  more  than  that  they  should 
come  there  and  rcaJ  io  her  the  books  they  were 
studying,  when  hei  superior  and  wide  information 


268  The  Chimney-Corner. 

enabled  her  to  light  up  and  explain  much  that  was  not 
clear  to  the  immature  students. 

"  In  her  shady  retirement,  too,  she  was  a  sort  of 
Egeria  to  certain  men  of  genius,  who  came  to  read 
to  her  their  writings,  to  consult  her  in  their  arguments, 
and  to  discuss  with  her  the  literature  and  politics  of 
the  day,  —  through  all  which  her  mind  moved  with 
an  equal  step,  yet  with  a  sprightliness  and  vivacity 
peculiarly  feminine. 

"  Her  memory  was  remarkably  retentive,  not  only 
of  the  contents  of  books,  but  of  all  that  great  outly- 
ing fund  of  anecdote  and  story  which  the  quaint  and 
earnest  New  England  life  always  supplied.  There 
were  pictures  of  peculiar  characters,  legends  of  true 
events  stranger  than  romance,  all  stored  in  the  cab- 
inets of  her  mind  ;  and  these  came  from  her  lips  with 
the  greater  force  because  the  precision  of  her  memory 
enabled  her  to  authenticate  them  with  name,  date, 
and  circumstances  of  vivid  reality.  From  that  shad- 
owy line  of  incidents  which  marks  the  twilight,  boun- 
dary between  the  spiritual  world  and  the  present  life 
she  drew  legends  of  peculiar  clearness,  but  invested 
with  the  mysterious  charm  which  always  dwells  in  that 
uncertain  region ;  and  the  shrewd  flash  of  her  eye, 
and  the  keen,  bright  ^smile  with  which  she  answered 
the  wondering  question,  'What  do  you  suppose  it 
was  ? '  or,  '  What  x^ould  it  have  been  ? '  showed  how 


The  Cathedral.  269 

evenly   rationalism   in   her   mind   kept  pace  with  ro- 
mance. 

"  The  retired  room  in  which  she  thus  read,  studied, 
thought,  and  surveyed  from  afar  the  whole  world  of 
science  and  literature,  and  in  which  she  received 
friends  and  entertained  children,  was  perhaps  the 
dearest  and  freshest  spot  to  her  in  the  world.  There 
came  a  time,  however,  when  the  neat  little  indepen- 
dent establishment  was  given  up,  and  she  went  to  asso- 
ciate herself  with  two  of  her  nieces  in  keeping  house 
for  a  boarding-school  of  young  girls.  Here  her  lively 
manners  and  her  gracious  interest  in  the  young  made 
her  a  universal  favorite,  though  the  cares  she  assumed 
broke  in  upon  those  habits  of  solitude  and  study 
which  formed  her  delight.  From  the  day  that  she 
surrendered  this  independency  of  hers,  she  had  never, 
for  more  than  a  score  of  years,  a  home  of  her  own, 
but  filled  the  trying  position  of  an  accessory  in  the 
home  of  others.  Leaving  the  boarding-school,  she 
became  the  helper  of  an  invalid  wife  and  mother  in 
the  early  nursing  and  rearing  of  a  family  of  young 
children,  —  an  office  which  leaves  no  privacy  and  no 
leisure.  Her  bed  was  always  shared  with  some  little 
one ;  her  territories  were  exposed  to  the  constant 
inroads  of  little  pattering  feet ;  and  all  the  various 
sicknesses  and  ailments  of  delicate  childhood  made 
absorbing  drafts  upon  her  time. 


270  The  Chimney-Corner. 

"After  a  while  she  left  New  England  with  the 
brother  to  whose  family  she  devoted  herself.  The 
failing  health  of  the  wife  and  mother  left  more  and 
more  the  charge  of  all  things  in  her  hands  ;  servants 
were  poor,  and  all  the  appliances  of  living  had  the 
rawness  and  inconvenience  which  in  those  days  at- 
tended Western  life.  It  became  her  fate  to  supply 
all  other  people's  defects  and  deficiencies.  Wherever 
a  hand  failed,  there  must  her  hand  be.  Whenever  a 
foot  faltered,  she  must  step  into  the  ranks.  She  was 
the  one  who  thought  for  and  cared  for  and  toiled  for 
all,  yet  made  never  a  claim  that  any  one  should  care 
for  her. 

"  It  was  not  till  late  in  my  life  that  I  became 
acquainted  with  the  deep  interior  sacrifice,  the  con- 
stant self-abnegation,  which  all  her  life  involved.  She 
was  born  with  a  strong,  vehement,  impulsive  nature, 
—  a  nature  both  proud  and  sensitive,  —  a  nature 
whose  tastes  were  passions,  whose  likings  and  whose 
aversions  were  of  the  most  intense  and  positive  char- 
acter. Devoted  as  she  always  seemed  to  the  mere 
practical  and  material,  she  had  naturally  a  deep  ro- 
mance and  enthusiasm  of  temperament  which  ex- 
ceeded all  that  can  be  written  in  novels.  It  was 
chiefly  owing  to  this  that  a  home  and  a  central  affec- 
tion of  her  own  were  never  hers.  In  her  early  days 
of  attractiveness,  none  who  would  have  sought  her 


The  Cathedral.  271 

could  meet  the  high  requirements  of  her  ideality  ;  she 
never  saw  her  hero,  —  and  so  never  married.  Family 
cares,  the  tending  of  young  children,  she  often  con- 
fessed, were  peculiarly  irksome  to  her.  She  had  the 
head  of  a  student,  a  passionate  love  for  the  world 
of  books.  A  Protestant  convent,  where  she  might 
devote  herself  without  interruption  to  study,  was  her 
ideal  of  happiness.  She  had,  too,  the  keenest  appre- 
ciation of  poetry,  of  music,  of  painting,  and  of  natural 
scenery.  Her  enjoyment  in  any  of  these  things  was 
intensely  vivid  whenever,  by  chance,  a  stray  sunbeam 
of  the  kind  darted  across  the  dusty  path  of  her  life  ; 
yet  in  all  these  her  life  was  a  constant  repression. 
The  eagerness  with  which  she  would  listen  to  any 
account  from  those  more  fortunate  ones  who  had 
known  these  things,  showed  how  ardent  a  passion  was 
constantly  held  in  check.  A  short  time  before  her 
death,  talking  with  a  friend  who  had  visited  Switzer- 
land, she  said,  with  great  feeling  :  '  All  my  life  my 
desire  to  visit  the  beautiful  places  of  this  earth  has 
been  so  intense,  that  I  cannot  but  hope  that  after  my 
death  I  shall  be  permitted  to  go  and  look  at  them.' 
"  The  completeness  of  her  self-discipline  may  be 
gathered  from  the  fact,  that  no  child  could  ever'  be 
brought  to  believe  she  had  not  a  natural  fondness  for 
children,  or  that  she  found  the  care  of  them  burden- 
some. It  was  easy  to  see  that  she  had  naturally  all 


2/2  The  Chimney-Corner. 

those  particular  habits,  those  minute  pertinacities  in 
respect  to  her  daily  movements  and  the  arrangement 
of  all  her  belongings,  which  would  make  the  med- 
dling, intrusive  demands  of  infancy  and  childhood 
peculiarly  hard  for  her  to  meet.  Yet  never  was  there 
a  pair  of  toddling  feet  that  did  not  make  free  with 
Aunt  Esther's  room,  never  a  curly  head  that  did  not 
look  up,  in  confiding  assurance  of  a  welcome  smile, 
to  her  bright  eyes.  The  inconsiderate  and  never- 
ceasing  requirements  of  children  and  invalids  never 
drew  from  her  other  than  a  cheerful  response  ;  and 
to  my  mind  there  is  more  saintship  in  this  than  in  the 
private  wearing  of  any  number  of  hair-cloth  shirts  or 
belts  lined  with  spikes. 

"In  a  large  family  of  careless,  noisy  children  there 
will  be  constant  losing  of  thimbles  and  needles  and 
scissors ;  but  Aunt  Esther  was  always  ready,  without 
reproach,  to  help  the  careless  and  the  luckless.  Her 
things,  so  well  kept  and  so  treasured,  she  was  willing 
to  lend,  with  many  a  caution  and  injunction  it  is  true, 
but  also  with  a  relish  of  right  good-will.  And,  to  do 
us  justice,  we  generally  felt  the  sacredness  of  the 
trust,  and  were  more  careful  of  her  things  than  of  our 
own.  If  a  shade  of  sewing-silk  were  wanting,  or  a 
choice  button,  or  a  bit  of  braid  or  tape,  Aunt  Esther 
cheerfully  volunteered  something  from  her  well-kept 
stores,  not  regarding  the  trouble  she  made  herself  in 


The  Cathedral.  273 

seeking  the  key,  unlocking  the  drawer,  and  searching 
out  in  bag  or  parcel  just  the  treasure  demanded. 
Never  was  more  perfect  precision,  or  more  perfect 
readiness  to  accommodate  others. 

"  Her  littlQ  income,  scarcely  reaching  a  hundred 
dollars  yearly,  was  disposed  of  with  a  generosity 
worthy  a  fortune.  One  tenth  was  sacredly  devoted 
to  charity,  and  a  still  further  sum  laid  by  every  year 
for  presents  to  friends.  No  Christmas  or  New  Year 
ever  came  round  that  Aunt  Esther,  out  of  this  very 
tiny  fund,  did  not  find  something  for  children  and 
servants.  Her  gifts  were  trifling  in  value,  but  well 
timed,  —  a  ball  of  thread-wax,  a  paper  of  pins,  a 
pincushion,  —  something  generally  so  well  chosen  as 
to  show  that  she  had  been  running  over  our  needs, 
and  noting  what  to  give.  She  was  no  less  gracious 
as  receiver  than  as  giver.  The  little  articles  that  we 
made  for  her,  or  the  small  presents  that  we  could  buy 
out  of  our  childish  resources,  she  always  declared 
were  exactly  what  she  needed ;  and  she  delighted  us 
by  the  care  she  took  of  them  and  the  value  she  set 
upon  them. 

"  Her  income  was  a  source  of  the  greatest  pleasure 
to  her,  as  maintaining  an  independence  without  which 
she  could  not  have  been  happy.  Though  she  con- 
stantly gave,  to  every  family  in  which  she  lived,  ser- 
vices which  no  money  could  repay,  it  would  have 
12*  R 


274  The  Chimney-Comer. 

been  the  greatest  trial  to  her  not  to  be  able  to  provide 
for  herself.  Her  dress,  always  that  of  a  true  gentle- 
woman,—  refined,  quiet,  and  neat, — was  bought  from 
this  restricted  sum,  and  her  small  travelling  expenses 
were  paid  out  of  it.  She  abhorred  anything  false  or 
flashy :  her  caps  were  trimmed  with  real  thread-lace, 
and  her  silk  dresses  were  of  the  best  quality,  perfectly 
well  made  and  kept ;  and,  after  all,  a  little  sum  al- 
ways remained  over  in  her  hands  for  unforeseen  exi- 
gencies. 

"  This  love  of  independence  was  one  of  the  strong- 
est features  of  her  life,  and  we  often  playfully  told  her 
that  her  only  form  of  selfishness  was  the  monopoly 
of  saintship,  —  that  she  who  gave  so  much  was  not 
willing  to  allow  others  to  give  to  her,  —  that  she  who 
made  herself  servant  of  all  was  not  willing  to  allow 
others  to  serve  her. 

"Among  the  trials  of  her  life  must  be  reckoned 
much  ill-health ;  borne,  however,  with  such  heroic 
patience  that  it  was  not  easy  to  say  when  the  hand 
of  pain  was  laid  upon  her.  She  inherited,  too,  a 
tendency  to  depression  of  spirits,  which  at  times 
increased  to  a  morbid  and  distressing  gloom.  Few 
knew  or  suspected  these  sufferings,  so  completely 
had  she  learned  to  suppress  every  outward  manifes- 
tation that  might  interfere  with  the  happiness  of 
others.  In  her  hours  of  depression  she  resolutely 


The  Cathedral.  275 

forbore  to  sadden  the  lives  of  those  around  her  with 
her  own  melancholy,  and  often  her  darkest  moods 
were  so  lighted  up  and  adorned  with  an^outside  show 
of  wit  and  humor,  that  those  who  had  Icnown  her 
intimately  were  astonished  to  hear  that  she  had  ever 
been  subject  to  depression. 

"Her  truthfulness  of  nature  amounted  almost  to 
superstition.  From  her  promise  once  given  she  felt 
no  change  of  purpose  could  absolve  her  ;  and  there- 
fore rarely  would  she  give  it  absolutely,  for  she  could 
not  alter  the  thing  that  had  gone  forth  from  her  lips. 
Our  belief  in  the  certainty  of  her  fulfilling  her  word 
was  like  our  belief  in  the  immutability  of  the  laws  of 
nature.  Whoever  asked  her  got  of  her  the  absolute 
truth  on  every  subject,  and,  when  she  had  no  good 
thing  to  say,  her  silence  was  often  truly  awful.  When 
anything  mean  or  ungenerous  was  brought  to  her 
knowledge,  she  would  close  her  lips  resolutely ;  but 
the  flash  in  her  eyes  showed  what  she  would  speak 
were  speech  permitted.  In  her  last  days  she  spoke 
to  a  friend  of  what  she  had  suffered  from  the  strength 
of  her  personal  antipathies.  '  I  thank  God,'  she  said, 
'  that  I  believe  at  last  I  have*  overcome  all  that  too, 
and  that  there  has  not  been,  for  some  years,  any 
human  being  toward  whom  I  have  felt  a  movement 
of  dislike.' 

"  The  last  year  of  her  life  was  a  constant  discipline 


276  The  Chimney-Corner. 

of  unceasing  pain,  borne  with  that  fortitude  which 
could  make  her  an  entertaining  and  interesting  com- 
panion even  while  the  sweat  of  mortal  agony  was 
starting  from  her  brow.  Her  own  room  she  kept  as 
a  last  asylum,  to  which  she  would  silently  retreat 
when  the  torture  became  too  intense  for*the  repres- 
sion of  society,  and  there  alone,  with  closed  doors, 
she  wrestled  with  her  agony.  The  stubborn  indepen- 
dence of  her  nature  took  refuge  in  this  final  fastness ; 
and  she  prayed  only  that  she  might  go  down  to  death 
with  the  full  ability  to  steady  herself  all  the  way, 
needing  the  help  of  no  other  hand. 

"  The  ultimate  struggle  of  earthly  feeling  came 
when  this  proud  self-reliance  was  forced  to  give  way, 
and  she  was  obliged  to  leave  herself  helpless  in  the 
hands  of  others.  'God  requires  that  I  should  give 
up  my  last  form  of  self-will,'  she  said  ;  '  now  I  have 
resigned  this,  perhaps  he  will  let  me  go  home.' 

"  In  a  good  old  age,  Death,  the  friend,  came  and 
opened  the  door  of  this  mortal  state,  and  a  great  soul, 
that  had  served  a  long  apprenticeship  to  little  things, 
went  forth  into  the  joy  of  its  Lord ;  a  life  of  self-sacri- 
fice and  self-abnegation  passed  into  a  life  of  endless 
rest." 

"  But,"  said  Rudolph,  "  I  rebel  at  this  life  of  self- 
abnegation  and  self-sacrifice.  I  do  not  think  it  the 
duty  of  noble  women,  who  have  beautiful  natures  and 


The  Cathedral.  277 

enlarged  and   cultivated   tastes,  to  make  themselves 
the  slaves  of  the  sick-room  and  nursery." 

"  Such  was  not  the  teaching  of  our  New  England 
faith,"  said  I.  "  Absolute  unselfishness,  —  the  death 
of  self,  —  such  were  its  teachings,  and  such  as  Esther's 
the  characters  it  made.  '  Do  the  duty  nearest  thee,' 
was  the  only  message  it  gave  to  '  women  with  a  mis- 
sion ' ;  and  from  duty  to  duty,  from  one  self-denial  to 
Another,  they  rose  to  a  majesty  of  moral  strength 
impossible  to  any  form  of  mere  self-indulgence.  It  is 
of  souls  thus  sculptured  and  chiselled  by  self-denial 
and  self-discipline  that  the  living  temple  of  the  perfect 
hereafter  is  to  be  built.  The  pain  of  the  discipline  is 
short,  but  the  glory  of  the  fruition  is  eternal." 


XII. 

THE  NEW  YEAR. 

[1865.] 

HERE  comes  the  First  of  January,  Eighteen 
Hundred  and  Sixty-Five,  and  we  are  all  settled 
comfortably  into  our  winter  places,  with  our  winter 
surroundings  and  belongings  ;  all  cracks  and  openings 
are  calked  and  listed,  the  double  windows  are  in,  the 
furnace  dragon  in  the  cellar  is  ruddy  and  in  good 
liking,  sending  up  his  warming  respirations  through 
every  pipe  and  register  in  the  house ;  and  yet,  though 
an  artificial  summer  reigns  everywhere,  like  bees,  we 
have  our  swarming-place,  —  in  my  library.  There  is 
my  chimney-corner,  and  my  table  permanently  estab- 
lished on  one  side  of  the  hearth  ;  and  each  of  the 
female  genus  has,  so  to  speak,  pitched  her  own  winter- 
tent  within  sight  of  the  blaze  of  my  camp-fire.  I 
discerned  to-day  that  Jennie  had  surreptitiously  ap- 
propriated one  of  the  drawers  of  my  study-table  to 
knitting-needles  and  worsted  ;  and  wicker  work-bas- 
kets and  stands  of  various  heights  and  sizes  seem  to 


The  New  Year.  279 

be  planted  here  and  there  for  permanence  among  the 
bookcases.  The  canary-bird  .has  a  sunny  window,  and 
the  plants  spread  out  their  leaves  and  unfold  their 
blossoms  as  if  there  were  no  ice  and  snow  in  the 
street,  and  Rover  makes  a  hearth-rug  of  himself  in 
winking  satisfaction  in  front  of  my  fire,  except  when 
Jennie  is  taken  with  a  fit  of  discipline,  when  he  beats 
a  retreat,  and  secretes  himself  under  my  table. 

Peaceable,  ah,  how  peaceable,  home  and  quiet  and 
warmth  in  winter  !  And  how,  when  we  hear  the  wind 
whistle,  we  think  of  you,  O  our  brave  brothers,  our 
saviors  and  defenders,  who  for  our  sake  have  no 
home  but  the  muddy  camp,  the  hard  pillow  of  the 
barrack,  the  weary  march,  the  uncertain  fare,  —  you, 
the  rank  and  file,  the  thousand  unnoticed  ones,  who 
have  left  warm  fires,  dear  wives,  loving  little  children, 
without  even  the  hope  of  glory  or  fame,  —  without 
even  the  hope  of  doing  anything  remarkable  or  per- 
ceptible for  the  cause  you  love,  —  resigned  only  to  fill 
the  ditch  or  bridge  the  chasm  over  which  your  country 
shall  walk  to  peace  and  joy !  Good  men  and  true, 
brave  unknown  hearts,  we  salute  you,  and  feel  that 
we,  in  our  soft  peace  and  security,  are  not  worthy  of 
you  !  When  we  think  of  you,  our  simple  comforts 
seem  luxuries  all  too  good  for  us,  who  give  so  little 
when  you  give  all ! 

But  there  are  others  to  whom  from  our  bright  homes, 


280  The  Chimney-Corner. 

our  cheerful  firesides,  we  would  fain  say  a  word,  if  we 
dared. 

Think  of  a  mother  receiving  a  letter  with  such  a 
passage  as  this  in  it !  It  is  extracted  from  one  we 
have  just  seen,  written  by  a  private  in  the  army  of 
Sheridan,  describing  the  death  of  a  private.  "  He 
fell  instantly,  gave  a  peculiar  smile  and  look,  and  then 
closed  his  eyes.  We  laid  him  down  gently  at  the  foot 
of  a  large  tree.  I  crossed  his  hands  over  his  breast, 
closed  his  eyelids  down,  but  the  smile  was  still  on  his 
face.  I  wrapt  him  in  his  tent,  spread  my  pocket- 
handkerchief  over  his  face,  wrote  his  name  on  a  piece 
of  paper,  and  pinned  it  on  his  breast,  and  there  we 
left  him  :  we  could  not  find  pick  or  shovel  to  dig  a 
grave."  There  it  is  !  —  a  history  that  is  multiplying 
itself  by  hundreds  daily,  the  substance  of  what  has 
come  to  so  many  homes,  and  must  come  to  so  many 
more  before  the  great  price  of  our  ransom  is  paid ! 

What  can  we  say  to  you,  in  those  many,  many 
homes  where  the  light  has  gone  out  forever  ?  —  you,  O 
fathers,  mothers,  wives,  sisters,  haunted  by  a  name 
that  has  ceased  to  be  spoken  on  earth,  —  you,  for 
whom  there  is  no  more  news  from  the  camp,  no  more 
reading  of  lists,  no  more  tracing  of  maps,  no  more 
letters,  but  only  a  blank,  dead  silence  !  The  battle- 
cry  goes  on,  but  for  you  it  is  passed  by !  the  victory 
comes,  but,  oh,  never  more  to  bring  him  back  to  you ! 


The  New  Year.  281 

your  offering  to  this  great  cause  has  been  made,  and 
been  taken  ;  you  have  thrown  into  it  all  your  living, 
even  all  ftiat  you  had,  and  from  henceforth  your  house 
is  left  unto  you  desolate  !  O  ye  watchers  of  the  cross, 
ye  waiters  by  the  sepulchre,  what  can  be  said  to  you? 
We  could  almost  extinguish  our  own  home-fires,  that 
seem  too  bright  when  we  think  of  your  darkness  ;  the 
laugh  dies  on  our  lip,  the  lamp  burns  dim  through  our 
tears,  and  we  seem  scarcely  worthy  to  speak  words 
of  comfort,  lest  we  seem  as  those  who  mock  a  grief 
they  cannot  know. 

But  is  there  no  consolation  ?  Is  it  nothing  to  have 
had  such  a  treasure  to  give,  and  to  have  given  it  freely 
for  the  noblest  cause  for  which  ever  battle  was  set,  — 
for  the  salvation  of  your  country,  for  the  freedom  of 
all  mankind  ?  Had  he  died  a  fruitless  death,  in  the 
track  of  common  life,  blasted  by  fever,  smitten  or  rent 
by  crushing  accident,  then  might  his  most  precious  life 
seem  to  be  as  water  spilled  upon  the  ground  ;  but  now 
it  has  been  given  for  a  cause  and  a  purpose  worthy 
even  the  anguish  of  your  loss  and  sacrifice.  He  has 
been  counted  worthy  to  be  numbered  with  those  who 
stood  with  precious  incense  between  the  living  and 
the  dead,  that  the  plague  which  was  consuming  us 
might  be  stayed.  The  blood  of  these  young  martyrs 
shall  be  the  seed  of  the  future  church  of  liberty,  and 
from  every  drop  shall  spring  up  flowers  of  healing.  Q 


282  The  Qdmncy-Corner. 

widow  !  O  mother  !  blessed  among  bereaved  women  ! 
there  remains  to  you  a  treasure  that  belongs  not  to 
those  who  have  lost  in  any  other  wise,  —  the  power  to 
say,  "  He  died  for  his  country."  In  all  the  good  that 
comes  of  this  anguish  you  shall  have  a  right  and  share 
by  virtue  of  this  sacrifice.  The  joy  of  freedmen  burst- 
ing from  chains,  the  glory  of  a  nation  new-born,  the 
assurance  of  a  triumphant  future  for  your  country  and 
the  world,  — all  these  become  yours  by  the  purchase- 
money  of  that  precious  blood. 

Besides  this,  there  are  other  treasures  that  come 
through  sorrow,  and  sorrow  alone.  There  are  celes- 
tial plants  of  root  so  long  and  so  deep  that  the  land 
must  be  torn  and  furrowed,  ploughed  up  from  the 
very  foundation,  before  they  can  strike  and  flourish  ; 
and  when  we  see  how  God's  plough  is  driving  back- 
ward and  forward  and  across  this  nation,  rending, 
tearing  up  tender  shoots,  and  burying  soft  wild-flowers, 
we  ask  ourselves,  What  is  He  going  to  plant  ? 

Not  the  first  year,  nor  the  second,  after  the  ground 
has  been  broken  up,  does  the  purpose  of  the  husband- 
man appear.  At  first  we  see  only  what  is  uprooted 
and  ploughed  in,  —  the  daisy  drabbled,  and  the  violet 
crushed,  —  and  the  first  trees  planted  amid,  the  un- 
sightly furrows  stand  dumb  and  disconsolate,  irreso- 
lute in  leaf,  and  without  flower  or  fruit.  Their  work 
is  under  the  ground.  In  darkness  and  silence  they 


The  New  Year.  283 

are  putting  forth  long  fibres,  searching  hither  and 
thither  under  the  black  soil  for  the  strength  that  years 
hence  shall  burst  into  bloom  and  bearing. 

What  is  true  of  nations  is  true  of  individuals.  It 
may  seem  now  winter  and  desolation  w4th  you.  Your 
hearts  have  been  ploughed  and  harrowed  and  are  now 
frozen  up.  There  is  not  a  flower  left,  not  a  blade  of 
grass,  not  a  bird  to  sing,  —  and  it  is  hard  to  believe 
that  any  brighter  flowers,  any  greener  herbage,  shall 
spring  up  than  those  which  have  been  torn  away ;  and 
yet  there  will.  Nature  herself  teaches  you  to-day. 
Out-doors  nothing  but  bare  branches  and  shrouding 
snow  ;  and  yet  you  know  that  there  is  not  a  tree  that 
is  not  patiently  holding  out  at  the  end  of  its  boughs 
next  year's  buds,  frozen  indeed,  but  unkilled.  The 
rhododendron  and  the  lilac  have  their  blossoms  all 
ready,  wrapped  in  cere-cloth,  waiting  in  patient  faith. 
Under  the  frozen  ground  the  crocus  and  the  hyacinth 
and  the  tulip  hide  in  their  hearts  the  perfect  forms  of 
future  flowers.  And  it  is  even  so  with  you  :  your  leaf- 
buds  of  the  future  are  frozen,  but  not  killed  ;  the  soil 

0 

of  your  heart  has  many  flowers  under  it  cold  and  still 
now,  but  they  will  yet  come  up  and  bloom. 

The  dear  old  book  of  comfort  tells  of  no  present 
healing  for  sorrow.  A~o  chastening  for  the  present 
seemeth  joyous,  but  grievous,  but  aftemiards  it  yield- 
eth  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness.  We,  as  indi- 


284  The  Cliimney-Comer. 

viduals,  as  a  nation,  need  to  have  faith  in  that  AFTER- 
WARDS. It  is  sure  to  come,  —  sure  as  spring  and 
summer  to  follow  winter. 

There  is  a  certain  amount  of  suffering  which  must 
follow  the  rending  of  the  great  cords  of  life,  suffering 
which  is  natural  and  inevitable ;  it  cannot  be  argued 
down  ;  it  cannot  be  stilled  ;  it  can  no  more  be  soothed 
by  any  effort  of  faith  and  reason  than  the  pain  of  a 
fractured  limb,  or  the  agony  of  fire  on  the  living  flesh. 
All  that  we  can  do  is  to  brace  ourselves  to  bear  it, 
calling  on  God,  as  the  martyrs  did  in  the  fire,  and 
resigning  ourselves  to  let  it  burn  on.  We  must  be 
willing  to  surfer  since  God  so  wills.  There  are  just 
so  many  waves  to  go  over  us,  just  so  many  arrows  of 
stinging  thought  to  be  shot  into  our  soul,  just  so  many 
faintings  and  sinkings  and  revivings  only  to  suffer 
again,  belonging  to  and  inherent  in  our  portion  of 
sorrow ;  and  there  is  a  work  of  healing  that  God  has 
placed  in  the  hands  of  Time  alone. 

Time  heals  all  things  at  last ;  yet  it  depends  much 
on  us  in  our  suffering,  whether  time  shall  send  us 
forth  healed,  indeed,  but  maimed  and  crippled  and 
callous,  or  whether,  looking  to  the  great  Physician 
of  sorrows,  and  coworking  with  him,  we  come  forth 
stronger  and  fairer  even  for  our  wounds. 

We  call  ourselves  a  Christian  people,  and  the  pecu- 
liarity of  Christianity  is  that  it  is  a  worship  and  doc- 


The  New  Year.  285 

trine  of  sorrow.  The  five  wounds  of  Jesus,  the  instru- 
ments of  the  passion,  the-  cross,  the  sepulchre,  — 
these  are  its  emblems  and  watchwords.  In  thousands 
of  churches,  amid  gold  and  gems  and  altars  fragrant 
with  perfume,  are  seen  the  crown  of  thorns,  the  nails, 
the  spear,  the  cup  of  vinegar  mingled  with  gall,  the 
sponge  that  could  not  slake  that  burning  death-thirst ; 
and  in  a  voice  choked  with  anguish  the  Church  in 
many  lands  and  divers  tongues  prays  from  age  to  age, 
"  By  thine  agony  and  bloody  sweat,  by  thy  cross  and 
passion,  by  thy  precious  death  and  burial !  "  —  mighty 
words  of  comfort,  whose  meaning  reveals  itself  only 
to  £ouls  fainting  in  the  cold  death-sweat  of  mortal 
anguish !  They  tell  all  Christians  that  by  uttermost 
distress  alone  was  the  Captain  of  their  salvation  made 
perfect  as  a  Saviour. 

Sorrow  brings  us  into  the  true  unity  of  the  Church, 
—  that  unity  which  underlies  all  external  creeds,  and 
unites  all  hearts  that  have  suffered  deeply  enough  to 
know  that  when  sorrow  is  at  its  utmost  there  is  but 
one  kind  of  sorrow,  and  but  one  remedy.  What  mat- 
ter, in  extremis,  whether  we  be  called  Romanist,  or 
Protestant,  or  Greek,  or  Calvinist  ? 

We  suffer,  and  Christ  suffered ;  we  die,  and  Christ 
died ;  he  conquered  suffering  and  death,  he  rose  and 
lives  and  reigns,  —  and  we  .shall  conquer,  rise,  live, 
and  reign.  The  hours  on  the  cross  were  long,  the 


286  The  Chimney-Corner. 

thirst  was  bitter,  the  darkness  and  horror  real,  —  but 
they  ended.  After  the  wail,  "  My  God,  why  hast  thou 
forsaken  me  ?  "  came  the  calm,  "  It  is  finished "  ; 
pledge  to  us  all  that  our  "  It  is  finished  "  shall  come 
also. 

Christ  arose,  fresh,  joyous,  no  more  to  die ;  and  it 
is  written,  that,  when  the  disciples  were  gathered 
together  in  fear  and  sorrow,  he  stood  in  the  midst 
of  them,  and  showed  unto  them  his  hands  and  his 
side  ;  and  then  were  they  glad.  Already  had  the 
healed  wounds  of  Jesus  become  pledges  of  consola- 
tion 19  innumerable  thousands ;  and  those  who,  like 
Christ,  have  suffered  the  weary  struggles,  the  dim 
horrors  of  the  cross,  —  who  have  lain,  like  him,  cold 
and  chilled  in  the  hopeless  sepulchre,  —  if  his  spirit 
wakes  them  to  life,  shaH  come  forth  with  healing 
power  for  others  who  have  suffered  and  are  suffering. 

Count  the  good  and  beautiful  ministrations  that 
have  been  wrought  in  this  world  of  need  and  labor, 
and  how  many  of  them  have  been  wrought  by  hands 
wounded  and  scarred,  by  hearts  that  had  scarcely 
ceased  to  bleed  !  / 

How  many  priests  of  consolation  is  God  now  or- 
daining by  the  fiery  imposition  of  sorrow  !  how  many 
Sisters  of  the  Bleeding  Heart,  Daughters  of  Mercy, 
Sisters  of  Charity,  are  receiving  their  first  vocation  in 
tears  and  blood ! 


The  New  Year.  287 

The  report  of  every  battle  strikes  into  some  home  ; 
and  heads  fall  low,  and  hearts  are  shattered,  and  only 
God  sees  the  joy  that  is  set  before  them,  and  that 
shall  come  out  of  their  sorrow.  He  sees  our  morning 
at  the  same  moment  that  He  sees  our  night,  —  sees 
us  comforted,  healed,  risen  to  a  higher  life,  at  the 
same  moment  that  He  sees  us  crushed  and  broken  in 
the  dust ;  and  so,  though  tenderer  than  we,  He  bears 
our  great  sorrows  for  the  joy  that  is  set  before  us. 

After  the  Napoleonic  wars  had  desolated  Europe, 
the  country  was,  like  all  countries  after  war,  full  of 
shattered  households,  of  widows  and  orphans  and 
homeless  wanderers.  A  nobleman  of  Silesia,  the 
Baron  von  Kottwitz,  who  had  lost  his  wife  and  all  his 
family  in  the  reverses  and  sorrows  of  the  times,  found 
himself  alone  in  the  world,  which  looked  more  dreary 
and  miserable  through  the  multiplying  lenses  of  his 
own  tears.  But  he  was  one  of  those  whose  heart  had 
been  quickened  in  its  death  anguish  by  the  resurrec- 
tion voice  of  Christ ;  and  he  came  forth  to  life  and 
comfort.  He  bravely  resolved  to  do  all  that  one  man 
could  to  lessen  the  great  sum  of  misery.  He  sold  his 
estates  in  Silesia,  bought  in  Berlin  a  large  building 
that  had  been  used  as  barracks  for  the  soldiers,  and, 
fitting  it  up  in  plain,  commodious  apartments,  formed 
there  a  great  family-establishment,  into  which  he  re- 
ceived the  wrecks  and  fragments  of  families  that  had 


288  The  Chimney-Corner. 

been  broken  up  by  the  war,  —  orphan  children,  wid- 
owed and  helpless  women,  decrepit  old  people,  dis- 
abled soldiers.  These  he  made  his  family,  and  con- 
stituted himself  their  father  and  chief.  He  abode 
with  them,  and  cared  for  them  as  a  parent.  He  had 
schools  for  the  children  ;  the  more  advanced  he  put 
to  trades  and  employments ;  he  set  up  a  hospital  fot 
the  sick  ;  and  for  all  he  had  the  priestly  ministrations 
of  his  own  Christ-like  heart.  The  celebrated  Profes- 
sor Tholuck,  one  of  the  most  learned  men  of  modern 
Germany,  was  an  early  protege  of  the  old  Baron's,  who, 
discerning  his  talents,  put  him  in  the  way  of  a  liberal 
education.  In  his  earlier  years,  like  many  others  of 
the  young  who  play  with  life,  ignorant  of  its  needs, 
Tholuck  piqued  himself  on  a  lordly  scepticism  with 
regard  to  the  commonly  received  Christianity,  and 
even  wrote  an  essay  to  prove  the  superiority  of  the 
Mohammedan  to  the  Christian  religion.  In  speaking 
of  his  conversion,  he  says,  —  "  What  moved  me  was 
no  argument,  nor  any  spoken  reproof,  but  simply  that 
divine  image  of  the  old  Baron  walking  before  my  soul. 
That  life  was  an  argument  always  present  to  me,  and 
which  I  never  could  answer ;  and  so  I  became  a 
Christian."  In  the  life  of  this  man  we  see  the  victory 
over  sorrow.  How  many  with  means  like  his,  when 
desolated  by  like  bereavements,  have  lain  coldly  and 
icily  gazing  on  the  miseries  of  life,  and  weaving  around 


The  New  Year.  289 

themselves  icy  tissues  of  doubt  and  despair,  —  doubt- 
ing the  being  of  a  God,  doubting  the  reality  of  a  Prov- 
idence, doubting  the  divine  love,  imbittered  and  rebel- 
lious against  the  power  which  they  could  not  resist, 
yet  to  which  they  would  not  submit !  In  such  a  chill 
heart-freeze  lies  the  danger  of  sorrow.  And  it  is  a 
mortal  danger.  It  is  a  torpor  that  must  be  resisted, 
as  the  man  in  the  whirling  snows  must  bestir  himself, 
or  he  will  perish.  The  apathy  of  melancholy  must  be 
broken  by  an  effort  of  religion  and  duty.  The  stag- 
nant blood  must  be  made  to  flow  by  active  work,  and 
the  cold  hand  warmed  by  clasping  the  hands  out- 
stretched towards  it  in  sympathy  or  supplication. 
One  orphan  child  taken  in,  to  be  fed,  clothed,  and 
nurtured,  may  save  a  heart  from  freezing  to  death  : 
and  God  knows  this  war  is  making  but  too  many 
orphans  ! 

It  is  easy  to  subscribe  to  an  orphan  asylum,  and  go 
on  in  one's  despair  and  loneliness.  Such  ministries 
may  do  good  to  the  children  who  are  thereby  saved 
from  the  street,  but  they  impart  little  warmth  and 
comfort  to  the  giver.  One  destitute  child  housed, 
taught,  cared  for,  and  tended  personally,  will  bring 
more  solace  to  a  suffering  heart  than  a  dozen  main 
tained  in  an  asylum.  Not  that  the  child  will  prob 
ably  prove  an  angel,  or  even  an  uncommonly  inter- 
esting mortal.  It  is  a  prosaic  work,  this  bringing-up 
13  s 


290  The  Chimney-Comer. 

of  children,  and  there  can  be  little  rosewater  in  it. 
The  child  may  not  appreciate  what  is  done  for  him, 
may  not  be  particularly  grateful,  may  have  disagree- 
able faults,  and  continue  to  have  them  after  much 
pains  on  your  part  to  eradicate  them,  —  and  yet  it  is 
a  fact,  that  to  redeem  one  human  being  from  destitu- 
tion and  ruin,  even  in  some  homely  every-day  course 
of  ministrations,  is  one  of  the  best  possible  tonics 
and  alteratives  to  a  sick  and  wounded  spirit. 

But  this  is  not  the  only  avenue  to  beneficence  which 
the  war  opens.  We  need  but  name  the  service  of 
hospitals,  the  care  and  education  of  the  freedmen,  — • 
for  these  are  charities  that  have  long  been  before  the 
eyes  of  the  community,  and  have  employed  thousands 
of  busy  hands  :  thousands  of  sick  and  dying  beds  to 
tend,  a  race  to  be  educated,  civilized,  and  Christian- 
ized, surely  were  work  enough  for  one  age ;  and  yet 
this  is  not  all.  War  shatters  everything,  and  it  is  hard 
to  say  what  in  society  will  not  need  rebuilding  and 
binding  up  and  strengthening  anew.  Not  the  least 
of  the  evils  of  war  are  the  vices  which  a  great  army 
engenders  wherever  it  moves,  —  vices  peculiar  to  mili- 
tary life,  as  others  are  peculiar  to  peace.  The  poor 
soldier  perils  for  us  not  merely  his  body,  but  his  soul. 
He  leads  a  life  of  harassing  and  exhausting  toil  and 
privation,  of  violent  strain  on  the  nervous  energies, 
alternating  with  sudden  collapse,  creating  a  craving 


The  New  Year.  291 

for  stimulants,  and  endangering  the  formation  of  fatal 
habits.  What  furies  and  harpies  are  those  that  follow 
the  army,  and  that  seek  out  the  soldier  in  his  tent,  far 
from  home,  mother,  wife,  and  sister,  tired,  disheart- 
ened, and  tempt  him  to  forget  his  troubles  in  a  mo- 
mentary exhilaration,  that  burns  only  to  chill  and  to 
destroy  !  Evil  angels  are  always  active  and  indefati- 
gable, and  there  must  be  good  angels  enlisted  to  face 
them  ;  and  here  is  employment  for  the  slack  hand  of 
grief.  Ah,  we  have  known  mothers  bereft  of  sons  in 
this  war,  who  have  seemed  at  once  to  open  wide  their 
hearts,  and  to  become  mothers  to  every  brave  soldier 
in  the  field.  They  have  lived  only  to  work,  —  and  in 
place  of  one  lost,  their  sons  have  been  counted  by 
thousands. 

And  not  least  of  all  the  fields  for  exertion  and 
Christian  charity  opened  by  this  war  is  that  presented 
by  womanhood.  The  war  is  abstracting  from  the 
community  its  protecting  and  sheltering  elements,  and 
leaving  the  helpless  and  dependent  in  vast  dispropor- 
tion. For  years  to  come,  the  average  of  lone  women 
will  be  largely  increased ;  and  the  demand,  always 
great,  for  some  means  by  which  they  may  provide  for 
themselves,  in  the  rude  jostle  of  the  world,  will  be- 
come more  urgent  and  imperative. 

Will  any  one  sit  pining  away  in  inert  grief,  when 
t\vo  streets  off  are  the  midnight  dance-houses,  where 


292  The  Chimney-Corner. 

girls  of  twelve,  thirteen,  and  fourteen  are  being  lured 
into  the  way  of  swift  destruction  ?  How  many  of 
these  are  daughters  of  soldiers  who  have  given  their 
hearts'  blood  for  us  and  our  liberties  ! 

Two  noble  women  of  the  Society  of  Friends  have 
lately  been  taking  the  gauge  of  suffering  and  misery 
in  our  land,  visiting  the  hospitals  at  every  accessible 
point,  pausing  in  our  great  cities,  and  going  in  their 
purity  to  those  midnight  orgies  where  mere  children 
are  being  trained  for  a  life  of  vice  and  infamy.  They 
have  talked  with  these  poor  bewildered  souls,  en- 
tangled in  toils  as  terrible  and  inexorable  as  those  of 
the  slave-market,  and  many  of  whom  are  frightened 
and  distressed  at  the  life  they  are  beginning  to  lead, 
and  earnestly  looking  for  the  means  of  escape.  In 
the  judgment  of  these  holy  women,  at  least  one  third 
of  those  with  whom  they  have  talked  are  children  so 
recently  entrapped,  and  so  capable  of  reformation, 
that  there  would  be  the  greatest  hope  in  efforts  for 
their  salvation.  While  such  things  are  to  be  done  in 
our  land,  is  there  any  reason  why  any  one  should  die 
of  grief?  One  soul  redeemed  will  do  more  to  lift  the 
burden  of  sorrow  than  all  the  blandishments  and  di- 
versions of  art,  all  the  alleviations  of  luxury,  all  the 
sympathy  of  friends. 

In  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  there  is  an  order 
of  women  called  the  Sisters  of  the  Good  Shepherd, 


The  New  Year.  293 

who  have  renounced  the  world  to  devote  themselves, 
their  talents  and  property,  entirely  to  the  work  of 
seeking  out  and  saving  the  fallen  of  their  own  sex ; 
and  the  wonders  worked  by  their  self-denying  love  on 
the  hearts  and  lives  of  even  the  most  depraved  are 
credible  only  to  those  who  know  that  the  Good  Shep- 
herd Himself  ever  lives  and  works  with  such  spirits 
engaged  in  such  a  work.  A  similar  order  of  women 
exists  in  New  York,  under  the  direction  of  the  Epis- 
copal Church,  in  connection  with  St.  Luke's  Hospital; 
and  another  in  England,  who  tend  the  "  House  of 
Mercy  "  of  Clewer. 

Such  benevolent  associations  offer  objects  of  inter- 
est to  that  class  which  most  needs  something  to  fill 
the  void  made  by  bereavement.  The  wounds  of  grief 
are  less  apt  feo  find  a  cure  in  that  rank  of  life  where 
the  sufferer  has  wealth  and  leisure.  The  poor  widow, 
whose  husband  was  her  all,  must  break  the  paralysis  of 
grief.  The  hard  necessities  of  life  are  her  physicians ; 
they  send  her  out  to  unwelcome,  yet  friendly  toil, 
which,  hard  as  it  seems,  has  yet  its  healing  power. 
But  the  sufferer  surrounded  by  the  appliances  of 
wealth  and  luxury  may  long  indulge  the  baleful  apathy, 
and  remain  in  the  damp  shadows  of  the  valley  of 
death  till  strength  and  health  are  irrecoverably  lost. 
How  Christ-like  is  the  thought  of  a  woman,  graceful, 
elegant,  cultivated,  refined,  whose  voice  has  been 


294  The  Chimney-Corner, 

trained  to  melody,  whose  fingers  can  make  sweet  har- 
mony with  every  touch,  whose  pencil  and  whose  nee- 
dle can  awake  the  beautiful  creations  of  art,  devoting 
all  these  powers  to  the  work  of  charming  back  to  the 
sheepfold  those  wandering  and  bewildered  lambs 
whom  the  Good  Shepherd  still  calls  his  own  !  Jenny 
Lind,  once,  when  she  sang  at  a  concert  for  destitute 
children,  exclaimed  in  her  enthusiasm,  "  Is  it  not 
beautiful  that  I  can  sing  so  ?"  And  so  may  not  every 
woman  feel,  when  her  graces  and  accomplishments 
draw  the  wanderer,  and  charm  away  evil  demons,  and 
soothe  the  sore  and  sickened  spirit,  and  make  the 
Christian  fold  more  attractive  than  the  dizzy  gardens 
of  false  pleasure  ? 

In  such  associations,  and  others  of  kindred  nature, 
how  many  of  the  stricken  and  bereaved  women  of  our 
country  might  find  at  once  a  home  and  an  object  in 
life !  Motherless  hearts  might  be  made  glad  in  a 
better  and  higher  motherhood  ;  and  the  stock  of 
earthly  life  that  seemed  cut  off  at  the  root,  and  dead 
past  recovery,  may  be  grafted  upon  with  a  shoot  from 
the  tree  of  life  which  is  in  the  Paradise  of  God. 

So  the  beginning  of  this  eventful  1865,  which  finds 
us  still  treading  the  wine-press  of  our  great  conflict, 
should  bring  with  it  a  serene  and  solemn  hope,  a  joy 
such  as  those  had  with  whom  in  the  midst  of  the  fiery 
furnace  there  walked  one  like  unto  the  Son  of  God. 


The  New  Year.  295 

The  great  affliction  that  has  come  upon  our  country 
is  so  evidently  the  purifying  chastening  of  a  Father, 
rather  than  the  avenging  anger  of  a  Destroyer,  that  all 
hearts  may  submit  themselves  in  a  solemn  and  holy 
calm  still  to  bear  the  burning  that  shall  make  us  clean 
from  dross  and  bring  us  forth  to  a  higher  national  life. 
Never,  in  the  whole  course  of  our  history,  have  such 
teachings  of  the  pure  abstract  Right  been  so  com- 
mended and  forced  upon  us  by  Providence.  Never 
have  public  men  been  so  constrained  to  humble  them- 
selves before  God,  and  to  acknowledge  that  there  is  a' 
Judge  that  ruleth  in  the  earth.  Verily  his  inquisition 
for  blood  has  been  strict  and  awful ;  and  for  every 
stricken  household  of  the  poor  and  lowly  hundreds 
of  households  of  the  oppressor  have  been  scattered. 
The  land  where  the  family  of  the  slave  was  first 
annihilated,  and  the  negro,  with  all  the  loves  and 
hopes  of  a  man,  was  proclaimed  to  be  a  beast  to  be 
bred  and  sold  in  market  with  the  horse  and  the  swine, 
—  that  land,  with  its  fair  name,  Virginia,  has  been 
made  a  desolation  so  signal,  so  wonderful,  that  the 
blindest  passer-by  cannot  but  ask  for  what  sin  so  aw- 
ful a  doom  has  been  meted  out.  The  prophetic  vis- 
ions of -Nat  Turner,  who  saw  the  leaves  prop  blood 
and  the  land  darkened,  have  been  fulfilled.  The 
work  of  justice  which  he  predicted  is  being  executed 
to  the  uttermost. 


296  The  Chimney-Corner. 

But  when  this  strange  work  of  judgment  and  justice 
is  consummated,  when  our  country,  through  a  thou- 
sand battles  and  ten  thousands  of  precious  deaths, 
shall  have  come  forth  from  this  long  agony,  redeemed 
and  regenerated,  then  God  himself  shall  return  and 
dwell  with  us,  and  the  Lord  God  shall  wipe  away  all 
tears  from  all  faces,  and  the  rebuke  of  his  people 
shall  he  utterly  take  away. 


XIII. 

THE  NOBLE  ARMY  OF  MARTYRS. 

WHEN  the  first  number  of  the  Chimney-Corner 
appeared,  the  snow  lay  white  on  the  ground, 
the  buds  on  the  trees  were  closed  and  frozen,  and  be- 
neath the  hard  frost-bound  soil  lay  buried  the  last 
year's  flower-roots,  waiting  for  a  resurrection. 

So  in  our  hearts  it  was  winter,  —  a  winter  of  patient 
suffering  and  expectancy,  — a  winter  of  suppressed 
sobs,  of  inward  bleedings,  —  a  cold,  choked,  com- 
pressed anguish  of  endurance,  for  how  long  and  how 
much  God  only  could  tell  us. 

The  first  paper  of  the  Chimney-Corner,  as  was  most 
meet  and  fitting,  was  given  to  those  homes  made 
sacred  and  venerable  by  the  cross  of  martyrdom,  — 
by  the  chrism  of  a  great  sorrow.  That  Chimney-Cor- 
ner made  bright  by  home  firelight  seemed  a  fitting 
place  for  a  solemn  act  of  reverent  sympathy  for  the 
homes  by  whose  darkness  our  homes  had  been  pre- 
served bright,  by  whose  emptiness  our  homes  had 
13* 


298  The  Chimney-Corner. 

been  kept  full,  by  whose  losses  our  homes  had  been 
enriched  ;  and  so  we  ventured  with  trembling  to  utter 
these  words  of  sympathy  and  cheer  to  those  whom 
God  had  chosen  to  this  great  sacrifice  of  sorrow. 

The  winter  months  passed  with  silent  footsteps, 
spring  returned,  and  the  sun,  with  ever-waxing  power, 
unsealed  the  snowy  sepulchre  of  buds  and  leaves,  — 
birds  reappeared,  brooks  were  unchained,  flowers 
filled  every  desolate  dell  with  blossoms  and  perfume. 
And  with  returning  spring,  in  like  manner,  the  chill 
frost  of  our  fears  and  of  our  dangers  melted  before  the 
breath  of  the  Lord.  The  great  war,  which  lay  like  a 
•mountain  of  ice  upon  our  hearts,  suddenly  dissolved 
and  was  gone.  The  fears  of  the  past  were  as  a 
dream  when  one  awaketh,  and  now  we  scarce  realize 
our  deliverance.  A  thousand  hopes  are  springing  up 
everywhere,  like  spring-flowers  in  the  forest.  All  is 
hopefulness,  all  is  bewildering  joy. 

But  this  our  joy  has  been  ordained  to  be  changed 
into  a  wail  of  sorrow.  The  kind  hard  hand,  that  held 
the  helm  so  steadily  in  the  desperate  tossings  of  the 
storm,  has  been  stricken  down  just  as  we  entered 
port,  —  the  fatherly  heart  that  bore  all  our  sorrows 
can  take  no  earthly  part  in  our  joys.  His  were  the 
cares,  the  watchings,  the  toils,  the  agonies,  of  a  nation 
in  mortal  struggle  ;  and  God,  looking  down,  was  so 
well  pleased  with  his  humble  faithfulness,  his  patient 


The  Noble  Army  of  Martyrs.  299 

continuance  in  well-doing,  that  earthly  rewards  and 
honors  seemed  all  too  poor  for  him,  so  he  reached 
down  and  took  him  to  immortal  glories.  "  Well  done, 
good  and  faithful  servant,  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of 
thy  Lord!" 

Henceforth  the  place  of  Abraham  Lincoln  is  first 
among  that  noble  army  of  martyrs  who  have  given 
their  blood  to  the  cause  of  human  freedom.  The  eyes 
are  yet  too  dim  with  tears  that  would  seek  calmly  to 
trace  out  his  place  in  history.  He  has  been  a  marvel 
and  a  phenomenon  among  statesmen,  a  new  kind  of 
ruler  in  the  earth.  There  has  been  something  even 
unearthly  about  his  extreme  unselfishness,  his  utter 
want  of  personal  ambition,  personal  self-valuation, 
personal  feeling. 

The  most  unsparing  criticism,  denunciation,  and 
ridicule  never  moved  him  to  a  single  bitter  expres- 
sion, never  seemed  to  awaken  in  him  a  single  bitter 
thought.  The  most  exultant  hour  of  party  victory 
brought  no  exultation  to  him  ;  he  accepted  power  not 
as  an  honor,  but  as  a  responsibility ;  and  when,  after 
a  severe  struggle,  that  power  came  a  second  time  into 
his  hands,  there  was  something  preternatural  in  the 
calmness  of  his  acceptance  of  it.  The  first  impulse 
seemed  to  be  a  disclaimer  of  all  triumph  over  the 
party  that  had  strained  their  utmost  to  push  him  from 
his  seat,  and  then  a  sober  girding  up  of  his  loins  to  go 


300  The  Chimney-Comer. 

on  with  the  work  to  which  he  was  appointed.  His 
last  inaugural  was  characterized  by  a  tone  so  peculiar- 
ly solemn  and  free  from  earthly  passion,  that  it  seems 
to  us  now,  who  look  back  on  it  in  the  light  of  what 
has  followed,  as  if  his  soul  had  already  parted  from 
earthly  things,  and  felt  the  powers  of  the  world  to 
come.  It  was  not  the  formal  state-paper  of  the  chief 
of  a  party  in  an  hour  of  victory,  so  much  as  the  sol- 
emn soliloquy  of  a  great  soul  reviewing  its  course 
under  a  vast  responsibility,  and  appealing  from  all 
earthly  judgments  to  the  tribunal  of  Infinite  Justice. 
It  was  the  solemn  clearing  of  his  soul  for  the  great 
sacrament  of  Death,  and  the  words  that  he  quoted  in 
it  with  such  thrilling  power  were  those  of  the  adoring 
spirits  that  veil  their  faces  before  the  throne  :  "  Just 
and  true  are  thy  ways,  thou  King  of  saints ! " 

Among  the  rich  treasures  which  this  bitter  struggle 
has  brought  to  our  country,  not  the  least  is  the  moral 
wealth  which  has  come  to  us  in  the  memory  of  our 
martyrs.  Thousands  of  men,  women,  and  children 
too,  in  this  great  conflict,  have  "  endured  tortures, 
not  accepting  deliverance,"  counting  not  their  lives 
dear  unto  them  in  the  holy  cause;  and  they  have 
done  this  as  understandingly  and  thoughtfully  as  the 
first  Christians  who  sealed  their  witness  with  their 
blood. 

Let  us  in  "our  hour  of  deliverance  and  victory  re- 


The  Noble  Army  of  Martyrs.  301 

cord  the  solemn  vow,  that  our  right  hand  shall  forget 
her  cunning  before  we  forget  them  and  their  suffer- 
ings, —  that  our  tongue  shall  cleave  to  the  roof  of  our 
mouth  if  we  remember  them-not  above  our  chief  joy. 

Least  suffering  among  that  noble  band  were  those 
who  laid  down  their  lives  on  the  battle^eld,  to  whom 
was  given  a  brief  and  speedy  passage  to  the  victor's 
meed.  The  mourners  who  mourn  for  such  as  these 
must  give  place  to  another  and  more  august  band, 
who  have  sounded  lower  deeps  of  anguish,  and 
drained  bitterer  drops  out  of  our  great  cup  of  trem- 
bling. 

The  narrative  of  the  lingering  tortures,  indignities, 
and  sufferings  of  our  soldiers  in  Rebel  prisons  has 
been  something  so  harrowing  that  we  have  not  dared 
to  dwell  upon  it  We  have  been  helplessly  dumb 
before  it,  and  have  turned  away  our  eyes  from  what 
we  could  not  relieve,  and  therefore  could  not  endure 
to  look  upon.  But  now,  when  the  nation  is  called  to 
strike  the  great  and  solemn  balance  of  justice,  and  to 
decide  measures  of  final  retribution,  it  behooves  us  all 
that  we  should  at  least  watch  with  our  brethren  for 
one  hour,  and  take  into  our  account  what  they  have 
been  made  to  suffer  for  us. 

Sterne  said  he  could  realize  the  miseries  of  captiv- 
ity only  by  setting  before  him  the  image  of  a  misera- 
ble captive  with  hollow  cheek  and  wasted  eye,  notch- 


3O2  The  Chimney-Comer. 

ing  upon  a  stick,  day  after  day,  the  weary  record  of 
the  flight  of  time.  So  we  can  form  a  more  vivid 
picture  of  the  sufferings  of  our  martyrs  from  one 
simple  story  than  from  any  general  description  ;  and 
therefore  we  will  speak  right  on, 'and  tell  one  story 
which  might  stand  as  a  specimen  of  what  has  been 
done  and  suffered  by  thousands. 

In  the  town  of  Andover,  Massachusetts,  a  boy  of 
sixteen,  named  Walter  Raymond,  enlisted  among  our 
volunteers.  He  was  under  the  prescribed  age,  but 
his  eager  zeal  led  him  to  follow  the  footsteps  of  an 
elder  brother  who  had  already  enlisted;  and  the  fa- 
ther of  the  boy,  though  these  two  were  all  the  sons 
he  had,  instead  of  availing  himself  of  his  legal  right  to 
withdraw  him,  indorsed  the  act  in  the  following  letter 
addressed  to  his  Captain  :  — 

"ANDOVER,  MASS.,  August  15,  1862. 
"  CAPTAIN  HUNT,  —  My  eldest  son  has  enlisted  in 
your  company.  I  send  you  his  younger  brother. 
He  is,  and  always  has  been,  in  perfect  health,  of 
more  than  the  ordinary  power  of  endurance,  honest, 
truthful,  and  courageous.  I  doubt  not  you  will  find 
him  on  trial  all  you  can  ask,  except  his  age,  and  that 
I  am  sorry  to  say  is  only  sixteen ;  yet  if  our  country 
needs  his  service,  take  him. 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"  SAMUEL  RAYMOND." 


The  Noble  Army  of  Martyrs.  303 

The  boy  went  forth  to  real  service,  and  to  succes- 
sive battles  at  Kingston,  at  Whitehall,  and  at  Golds- 
borough  ;  and  in  all  did  his  duty  bravely  and  faith- 
fully. He  met  the  temptations  and  dangers  of  a  sol- 
dier's life  with  the  pure-hearted  firmness  of  a  Chris- 
tian child,  neither  afraid  nor  ashamed  to  remember 
his  baptismal  vows,  his  Sunday-school  teachings,  and 
his  mother's  wishes. 

He  had  passed  his  promise  to  his  mother  against 
drinking  and  smoking,  and  held  it  with  a  simple, 
childlike  steadiness.  When  in  the  midst  of  malarious 
swamps,  physicians  and  officers  advised  the  use  of 
tobacco.  The  boy  writes  to  his  mother :  "  A  great 
many  have  begun  to  smoke,  but  I  shall  not  do  it 
without  your  permission,  though  I  think  it  does  a 
great  deal  of  good." 

In  his  leisure  hours,  he  was  found  in  his  tent  read- 
ing ;  and  before  battle  he  prepared  his  soul  with  the 
beautiful  psalms  and  collects  for  the  day,  as  appoint- 
ed by  his  church,  and  writes  with  simplicity  to  his 
friends,  — 

"  I  prayed  God  that  he  would  watch  over  me,  and 
if  I  fell,  receive  my  soul  in  heaven ;  and  I  also  prayed 
that  I  might  not  forget  the  cause  1  was  fighting  for, 
and  turn  my^back  in  fear." 

After  nine  months'  service,  he  returned  with 
a  soldier's  experience,  though  with  a  frame  weak- 


304  The  Chimney-Corner. 

ened  by  sickness  in  a  malarious  region.  But  no 
sooner  did  health  and  strength  return  than  he  again 
enlisted,  in  the  Massachusetts  cavalry  service,  and 
passed  many  months  of  constant  activity  and  adven- 
ture, being  in  some  severe  skirmishes  and  battles 
with  that  portion  of  Sheridan's  troops  who  approached 
nearest  to  Richmond,  getting  within  a  mile  and  a  half 
of  the  city.  At  the  close  of  this  raid,  so  hard  had 
been  the  service,  that  only  thirty  horses  were  left  out 
of  seventy-four  in  his  company,  and  Walter  and  two 
others  were  the  sole  survivors  among  eight  who 
occupied  the  same  tent. 

On  the  1 6th  of  August,  Walter  was  taken  prisoner 
in  a  skirmish ;  and  from  the  time  that  this  news 
reached  his  parents,  until  the  i8th  of  the  following 
March,  they  could  ascertain  nothing  of  his  fate.  A 
general  exchange  of  prisoners  having  been  then  ef- 
fected, they  learned  that  he  had  died  on  Christmas 
Day  in  Salisbury  Prison,  of  hardship  and  privation. 

What  these  hardships  were  is,  alas !  easy  to  be 
known  from  those  too  well-authenticated  accounts 
published  by  our  government  of  the  treatment  ex- 
perienced by  our  soldiers  in  the  Rebel  prisons. 

Robbed  of  clothing,  of  money,  of  the  soldier's  best 
friend,  his  sheltering  blanket,  —  herded  in  shivering 
nakedness  on  the  bare  ground,  —  deprived  of  every 
implement  by  which  men  of  energy  and  spirit  had 


The  Noble  Army  of  Martyrs.  305 

soon  bettered  their  lot,  — forbidden  to  cut  in  adjacent 
forests  branches  for  shelter,  or  fuel  to  cook  their 
coarse  food,  —  fed  on  a  pint  of  corn-and-cob-meal 
per  day,  with  some  slight  addition  of  molasses  or 
rancid  meat,  —  denied  all  mental  resources,  all  letters 
from  home,  all  writing  to  friends,  —  these  men  were 
cut  off  from  the  land  of  the  living  while  yet  they  lived, 
—  they  were- made  to  dwell  in  darkness  as  those  that 
have  been  long  dead. 

By  such  slow,  lingering  tortures,  —  such  weaiy, 
wasting  anguish  and  sickness  of  body  and  soul,  —  it 
was  the  infernal  policy  of  the  Rebel  government  either 
to  wring  from  them  an  abjuration  of  their  country, 
or  by  slow  and  steady  draining  away  of  the  vital 
forces  to  render  them  forever  unfit  to  serve  in  her 
armies. 

Walter's  constitution  bore  four  months  of  this  usage, 
when  death  came  to  his  release.  A  fellow-sufferer, 
who  was  with  him  in  his  last  hours,  brought  the  ac- 
count to  his  parents. 

Through  all  his  terrible  privations,  even  the  linger- 
ing pains  of  slow  starvation,  Walter  preserved  his 
steady  simplicity,  his  faith  in  God,  and  unswerving 
fidelity  to  the  cause  for  which  he  was  suffering. 

When  the  Rebels  had  kept  the  prisoners  fasting  for 
days,  and  then  brought  in  delicacies  to  tempt  their 
appetite,  hoping  thereby  to  induce  them  to  desert 


306  The  Chimney-Corner. 

their  flag,  he  only  answered,  "I  would  rather  be 
carried  out  in  that  dead-cart !  " 

When  told  by  some  that  he  must  steal  from  his 
fellow-sufferers,  as  many  did,  in  order  to  relieve  the 
pangs  of  hunger,  he  answered,  "  No,  I  was  not 
brought  up  to  that !  "  And  so  when  his  weakened 
system  would  no  longer  receive  the  cob-meal  which 
was  his  principal  allowance,  he  set  his  face  calmly 
towards  death. 

He  grew  gradually  weaker  and  weaker  and  famter 
and  fainter,  and  at  last  disease  of  the  lungs  set  in, 
and  it  became  apparent  that  the  end  was  at  hand. 

On  Christmas  Day,  while  thousands  among  us  were 
bowing  in  our  garlanded  churches  or  surrounding  fes- 
tive tables,  this  young  martyr  lay  on  the  cold,  damp 
ground,  watched  over  by  his  destitute  friends,  who 
sought  to  soothe  his  last  hours  with  such  scanty  com- 
forts as  their  utter  poverty  afforded,  —  raising  his  head 
on  the  block  of  wood  which  was  his  only  pillow,  and 
moistening  his  brow  and  lips  with  water,  while  his 
life  ebbed  slowly  away,  until  about  two  o'clock,  when 
he  suddenly  roused  himself,  stretched  out  his  hand, 
and,  drawing  to  him  his  dearest  friend  among  those 
around  him,  said,  in  a  strong,  clear  voice  :  — 

"  I  am  going  to  die.  Go  tell  my  father  I  am  ready 
to  die,  for  I  die  for  God  and  my  country," — and, 
looking  up  with  a  triumphant  smile,  he  passed  to  the 
reward  of  the  faithful. 


The  Noble  Army  of  Martyrs.  307 

And  now,  men  and  brethren,  if  this  story  were  a  sin- 
gle one,  it  were  worthy  to  be  had  in  remembrance  ; 
but  Walter  Raymond  is  not  the  only  noble-hearted  boy 
or  man  that  has  been  slowly  tortured  and  starved  and 
done  to  death,  by  the  fiendish  policy  of  Jefferson 
Davis  and  Robert  Edmund  Lee. 

No,  —  wherever  this  simple  history  shall  be  read, 
there  will  arise  hundreds  of  men  and  women  who  will 
testify,  "  Just  so  died  my  son  !  "  "  So  died  my 
brother  !  "  "  So  died  my  husband  ! "  "So  died  my 
father !  " 

The  numbers  who  have  died  in  these  lingering  tor- 
tures are  to  be  counted,  not  by  hundreds,  or  even  by 
thousands,  but  by  tens  of  thousands. 

And  is  there  to  be  no  retribution  for  a  cruelty  so 
vast,  so  aggravated,  so  cowardly  and  base  ?  And  if 
there  is  retribution,  on  whose  head  should  it  fall  ? 
Shall  we  seize  and  hang  the  poor,  ignorant,  stupid, 
imbruted  semi-barbarians  who  were  set  as  jailers  to 
keep  these  hells  of  torment  and  inflict  these  insults 
and  cruelties  ?  or  shall  we  punish  the  educated,  intel- 
ligent chiefs  who  were  the  head  and  brain  of  the 
iniquity  ? 

If  General  Lee  had  been  determined  not  to  have 
prisoners  starved  or  abused,  does  any  one  doubt  that 
he  could  have  prevented  these  things  ?  Nobody 
doubts  it.  His  raiment  is  red  with  the  blood  of  his 


308          *         The  CJiimncy-Comer. 

helpless  captives.  Does  any  one  doubt  that  Jefferson 
Davis,  living  in  ease  and  luxury  in  Richmond,  knew 
that  men  were  dying  by  inches  in  filth  and  squalor 
and  privation  in  the  Libby  Prison,  within  bowshot  of 
his  own  door  ?  Nobody  doubts  it.  It  was  his  will, 
his  deliberate  policy,  thus  to  destroy  those  who  fell 
into  his  hands.  The  chief  of  a  so-called  Confederacy, 
who  could  calmly  consider  among  his  official  docu- 
ments incendiary  plots  for  the  secret  destruction  of 
ships,  hotels,  and  cities  full  of  peaceable  people,  is  a 
chief  well  worthy  to  preside  over  such  cruelties  ;  but 
his  only  just  title  is  President  of  Assassins,  and  the 
whole  civilized  world  should  make  common  cause 
against  such  a  miscreant. 

There  has  been,  on  both  sides  of  the  water,  much 
weak,  ill-advised  talk  of  mercy  and  magnanimity  to  be 
extended  to  these  men,  whose  crimes  have  produced 
a  misery  so  vast  and  incalculable.  The  wretches 
who  have  tortured  the  weak  and  the  helpless,  who 
have  secretly  plotted  to  supplement,  by  dastardly 
schemes  of  murder  and  arson,  that  strength  which 
failed  them  in  fair  fight,  have  been  commiserated  as 
brave  generals  and  unfortunate  patriots,  and  efforts 
are  made  to  place  them  within  the  comities  of  war. 

It  is  no  feeling  of  personal  vengeance,  but  a  sense 
of  the  eternal  fitness  of  things,  that  makes  us  rejoice, 
when  criminals,  who  have  so  outraged  every  sentiment 


The  Noble  Army  of  Martyrs.  309 

of  humanity,  are  arrested  and  arraigned  and  awarded 
due  retribution  at  the  bar  of  their  country's  justice. 
There  are  crimes  against  God  and  human  nature  which 
it  is  treason  alike  to  God  and  man  not  to  punish ; 
and  such  have  been  the  crimes  of  the  traitors  who 
were  banded  together  in  Richmond. 

If  there  be  those  whose  hearts  lean  to  pity,  we  can 
show  them  where  all  the  pity  of  their  hearts  may  be 
better  bestowed  than  in  deploring  the  woes  of  assas- 
sins. Let  them  think  of  the  thousands  of  fathers, 
mothers,  wives,  sisters,  whose  lives  will  be  forever 
haunted  with  memories  of  the  slow  tortures  in  which 
their  best  and  bravest  were  done  to  death. 

The  sufferings  of  those  brave  men  are  ended. 
Nearly  a  hundred  thousand  are  sleeping  in  those  sad, 
nameless  graves,  —  and  may  their  rest  be  sweet ! 
"  There  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  there  the 
weary  are  at  rest.  There  the  prisoners  rest  together ; 
they  hear  not  the  voice  of  the  oppressor."  But,  O  ye 
who  have  pity  to  spare,  spare  it  for  the  broken-hearted 
friends,  who,  to  life's  end,  will  suffer  over  and  over 
all  that  their  dear  ones  endured.  Pity  the  mothers 
who  hear  their  sons'  faint  calls  in  dreams,  who  in 
many  a  weary  night-watch  see  th€?m  pining  and  wast- 
ing, and  yearn  with  a  life-long,  unappeasable  yearning 
to  have  been  able  to  soothe  those  forsaken,  lonely 
death-beds.  Oh,  man  or  woman,  if  you  have  pity  to 


3IO  The  Chimney-Corner. 

spare,  spend  it  not  on  Lee  or  Davis,  —  spend  it  on 
their  victims,  on  the  thousands  of  living  hearts  which 
these  men  of  sin  have  doomed  to  an  anguish  that  will 
end  only  with  life  ! 

Blessed  are  the  mothers  whose  sons  passed  in  bat- 
tle, —  a  quick,  a  painless,  a  glorious  death  !  Blessed 
in  comparison,  —  yet  we  weep  for  them.  We  rise  up 
and  give  place  at  sight  of  their  mourning-garments. 
We  reverence  the  sanctity  of  their  sorrow.  But  before 
this  other  sorrow  we  are  dumb  in  awful  silence.  We 
find  no  words  with  which. to  console  such  grief.  We 
feel  that  our  peace,  our  liberties,  have  been  bought  at 
a  fearful  price,  when  we  think  of  the  sufferings  of  our 
martyred  soldiers.  Let  us  think  of  them.  It  was  for 
us  they  bore  hunger  and  cold  and  nakedness.  They 
might  have  had  food  and  raiment  and  comforts,  if 
they  would  have  deserted  our  cause,  —  and  they  did 
not.  Cut  off  from  all  communication  with  home  or 
friends  or  brethren,  —  dragging  on  the  weary  months, 
apparently  forgotten,  —  still  they  would  not  yield, 
they  would  not  fight  against  us ;  and  so  for  us  at  last 
they  died. 

What  return  can  we  make  them  ?  Peace  has  come, 
and  we  take  up  all  our  blessings  restored  and  bright- 
ened ;  but  if  we  look,  we  shall  see  on  every  blessing 
a  bloody  cross. 

When  three  brave  men  broke  through  the  ranks  of 


The  Noble  Army  of  Martyrs.  311 

the  enemy,  to  bring  to  King  David  a  draught  from 
the  home-well,  for  which  he  longed,  the  generous- 
hearted  prince  would  not  drink  it,  but  poured  it  out 
as  an  offering  before  the  Lord ;  for  he  said,  "  Is  not 
this  the  blood  of  the  men  that  went  in  jeopardy  of 
their  lives  ? " 

Thousands  of  noble  hearts  have  been  slowly  con- 
sumed to  secure  to  us  the  blessings  we  are  rejoicing 
in. 

We  owe  a  duty  to  these  our  martyrs,  —  the  only 
one  we  can  pay. 

In  every  place,  honored  by  such  a  history  and  ex- 
ample, let  a  monument  be  raised  at  the  public  ex- 
pense, on  which  shall  be  inscribed  the  names  of  those 
who  died  for  their  country,  and  the  manner  of  their 
death. 

Such  monuments  will  educate  our  young  men  in 
heroic  virtue,  and  keep  alive  to  future  ages  the  flame 
of  patriotism.  And  thus,  too,  to  the  aching  heart  of 
bereaved  love  shall  be  given  the  only  consolation  of 
which  its  sorrows  admit,  in  the  reverence  which  is  paid 
to  its  lost  loved  ones. 

THE   END.' 


Cambridge  :  Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


University  of  California  Library 
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